The Hill
by dontstealmyvitaminies
Summary: Three years after the events of 'Love and Other Labels' Emilia finds herself tripping down a hill paved with good intentions, so quickly that not even George, her best friend and maybe lover can save her from falling. But that doesn't mean he won't try.
1. Of Princess Perfect

"_What I'm going through, this is nothing new,  
No, no just another phase of finding what I really need,  
Is what makes me bleed, and like a new disease,_

_She's still too young to treat,_"

-Damien Rice, 'Volcanoes'

She was a creature of beauty.

Slender but curvaceous, petit but still so elegant in her dangerously tall heels, dark patterned tights and tight black sheath dress over a transparent cream blouse. Her pale blonde curls had changed over the years to shimmer in a range of gorgeous, natural highlights of varying gold hues; they fell around her face, brushing past her shoulders and were tied loosely at the nape of her neck, a few strands framing her perfectly sculpted face, a picture of elegance and beauty with full red lips and sparkling milky-blue eyes.

Well, on a normal day she was.

"I'll be ready in _two seconds_!" Emilia assured George as she hopped around her gloriously decorated bedroom in her brand-new London apartment, pulling a hot roller out of her hair with one hand and with the other attempting the tight knot on her bathrobe.

"Should I just go back next door and watch TV whilst you prepare yourself?" he questioned doubtfully as she ducked behind the Victorian silk screens, throwing her bathrobe off and hastily pulling on the daring scarlet bridesmaid dress.

"Don't you dare! I'll only be a minute, my hair and makeup are already done! Just grab my black heels from the wardrobe," she instructed from behind the screen. George raised a brow, but unwillingly pulled open the doors to her walk-in wardrobe. There were probably a hundred pairs of shoes, and at least a dozen of them were black heels.

"_Which_ black heels?" he questioned doubtfully.

"The Christian Louboutin ones with the ankle-bow!"

"I hate shoes," George murmured miserably as he scanned the selection before him. Pulling out the pair from the impossibly neat display, he walked back into her bedroom to find her scrambling over to one of the chests of draws, the top half of the dress undone, holding her chest with one hand.

"Have you seen the duct tape?" she questioned anxiously, rifling through cupboards with haste.

"Why do you… No, maybe I shouldn't ask that question," he murmured, putting the heels on the perfectly made (did she _iron_ her sheets or something?) king sized four-poster Rococo bed.

"I need to tape my boobs! This dress has no back and no straps, I can't wear a bra with it!" she snapped, pulling open another draw. "Ha! There you are!" she cried triumphantly, disappearing back behind the screen.

"You're _taping_ your boobs?" he exclaimed in shock.

"Uh-huh! Most of the time girls just go bare, but mine are too big! Damn those skinny bitches," she muttered from behind the screen.

"You weigh the equivalent of a small kitten. _No one_ can be called 'skinny' when standing next to you," George retorted, sitting atop the bed, checking his watch. They were running very close to becoming late.

But he had expected no less. Life with Emilia was filled with late starts, boob-taping and searching through an endless sea of identical heels to find the one pair that had the _tiniest_ inconsistency with the others.

They had been living on the same floor of the same apartment building for only a week now, and his endurance was becoming strained, but he wouldn't trade the life he had for anything.

_She_ was the twenty-one-year-old up-and-coming eco-fashion designer and Queen of Charity who had just finished her degree of fashion design at one of the best colleges in the UK, with men and women trailing her heels, all hoping to become friends with 'the _it_ girl', and _he_ was the thirty-something owner of a quickly-growing publishing and production company who enjoyed eating Chinese food and messing about with an acoustic guitar in his lounge room. He never felt intimidated by her; he had known her since she was a foetus, after all.

"Right! I'm ready!" she declared finally, straightening the daringly low-cut scarlet dress with absolutely no back, pushing in the last pin on her loose chignon, which was the perfect combination of stylised and casual, a few curled strands framing her face, her lips making a bold statement with bright red lipstick, her eyes smoky and alluring with her dark shadowing. She pulled on the heels with haste, and didn't even glance in the mirror as she snatched up her bag and a shawl – she probably knew that she looked perfect.

"Finally. Can we go?" George requested, using impatience to cover up his usual awe at her incredibly beauty. She rolled her eyes at his tone.

"Jeez, anyone would that that it's _your_ wedding," she muttered teasingly, stepping past him on her way out of the room.

"You're supposed to be there comforting the bride!"

"Bah! Taylor has been waiting for James to propose since the day I set them up," she retorted, switching off the air conditioning and stereo as she drifted through the living room of her apartment in her journey to the door.

"We've been through this a million times – you did _not_ set them up, and you're still shirking your responsibility as maid of honour," he responded sternly, shutting the door behind him as they left the apartment.

"Tay _asked_ me to come late – she seems to think that I'll go completely over-the-top and spoil everything," Emilia retorted, not even glancing back at her companion as they headed for the elevator.

"Hmm. So the girl has an ounce of sense then," George murmured quietly beneath his breath.

"Heard that!"

"Shutup and get in the elevator, short-ass," he ordered, fighting a grin as she sent him a withering glare. She jabbed the small silver button by the elevator doors before tossing her head in an act of ignorance. "Hello, Mrs Jamison," he greeted politely as the doors slid open to reveal a very ill-tempered old woman that lived on the same floor. She scowled and shuffled out into the hall as Emilia took her place.

"Hey Mrs Jamison," she threw in with a kind smile. The old woman glared at the two bitterly, and continued hobbling up the hallway in silence, broken only with her breathless mutterings of the horrible youth inhabiting the world nowadays. Emilia rolled her eyes whilst George joined her. "She doesn't like me," she stated factually. George snorted.

"Sorry Princess, not _everyone_ has to like you," he pointed out with a snigger. Emilia scowled slightly.

"I _know_ that, but she seems to particularly despise me," she emphasised firmly as the elevator doors slid shut. "And she's only known me for a year, too!" she added.

"I've been living in this building for twelve months and I've never even gotten a smile from her, Em, so don't put yourself on a pedestal," he advised firmly. Emilia rolled her sparkling eyes simply flashing one of her saucy little smiles as they descended to the lobby.

Taylor Annas (soon to be Weston) was the pleasant Personal Assistant to Henry Woodhouse, Emilia's father. After 'the accident' that had rendered Mr Woodhouse practically immobile she had taken over much of the running of Woodhouse Accountancy, and was an irreplaceable part of the company.

"Poor Miss Annas," Henry Woodhouse sighed sadly at the end of the service, as guests all piled into cars and taxis to head over for the reception at some fancy hotel a few miles away, several tears here and there whilst the details of how 'very beautiful the bride looked' were thrown about and rencountered till the listener found themselves wishing that the bride hadn't turned up at all.

"Taylor is Mrs _Weston_ now, Daddy, and she's certainly not '_poor_ Mrs Weston', she's practically glowing with happiness," Emilia pointed out comfortingly as they left the church, headed for a large, comfortable limo.

"But she's _married_ now, Emilia! She must be so sad, her whole life has been quite altered by this sorry event!" he exclaimed. Emilia resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and simply sighed.

"Lots of people get married, Daddy. _You_ were married, Bella and Jon are married, Antoinette and Howl are married, even _George_ was almost going to get married," she pointed out.

"And look where that got him! That girl just cleared off!" Mr Woodhouse pointed out animatedly as his manservant began the task of assisting him into the limousine from his wheelchair.

"Daddy, that was two years ago, and Jane simply wasn't right for him, that's all," Emilia soothed him patiently. Mr Woodhouse grunted as he was shifted into the back seat of the limo, but whether or not it was in regards to his daughter's statement was unknown.

"Marriage only ends in sadness, young lady, that I can assure you," he said firmly. She sighed, but quit her argument, turning to glance through the crowd of people when she had made sure her father was comfortable.

"George! Coming with us?" she called, when she spotted his familiar mop of dark hair. He nodded towards Henrietta Bates as she babbled endlessly beside him, and gave her a small, apologetic glance. Emilia hid the urge to laugh – he was trapped. Henrietta was well known to be the most talkative woman in all of England, and George Knightley was one of the few people who actually had the patience to listen to her without requesting a very large knife with which to end it all. She slid into the limo alone, hiding her smirk from her father.

"I tell you, this will only end in tears!" Mr Woodhouse huffed to himself as Emilia pulled the car door shut and the driver sped off.

"Sorry, I couldn't get away," George muttered a full half-hour later as guests filed into the reception hall, which had been decorated within an inch of its life with lilies, orchards and endless lengths of curled ribbon.

"Understandable. When that woman gets going, there's no stopping her," Emilia laughed, passing him a flute of champagne. "So, how did you find the ceremony?" she questioned, her pale eyes dancing.

"James was ecstatic, as any groom should be, Taylor looked stunning, as any bride should be, but the maid of honour was this annoying little blonde thing that – oh, sorry, forgot who I was talking to," he teased in response.

"I _will_ poke you."

"You can try."

"Oh goodie, they're bickering!" came a cheerful cry as one of Emilia's fellow bridesmaids wandered up to the couple.

"Eli! Oh, you looked so _hot_!" Emilia practically squealed, pulling her second closest friend into a tight hug. George rolled his eyes and downed half his glass of champagne in one go.

"Are you going to do that thing where you both compliment each other and I end up feeling incredibly inadequate?" he questioned warily. Eli took her turn to roll her own dark hazel eyes as she tossed a lock of dark chocolate hair over one pale, slender shoulder.

"Gigi, with that attitude, you're _never_ going to get a hug," she warned him.

"Did you hear me ask for one?"

"The lips say no, but the eyes say yes!" she retorted, attacking him with a tight squeeze around his middle, as if she hadn't seen him exactly thirty-four minutes ago.

"Wow, have you told Will that you're in an open relationship yet?" George asked, when he was released from the fiery Australian's affectionate grip of death.

"Jeez, that would be a horrible way for you to die, Gigi," Emilia pointed out cheekily, before turning back to her friend.

Emilia loved Eli Bennett like a pregnant woman loved pickles and chocolate sauce. They had known each other for almost four years, since the latter had moved to England from her hometown of Port Stevens, Australia, and since that time had been practically inseparable, through the thick and thin that the past four years had brought them.

Elizabeth Bennett had grown from being the immature, smart-aleck and secretly incredibly insecure basket case of a girl that she was on arriving in England to a gorgeous, intelligent and driven young woman. Her curls had lengthened to fall down a few inches shy of her waist, her eyes had developed an intensity of emotion that her new-found confidence had initiated, she had grown an inch or two and filled out in all the right places over the past four years – she was no longer slightly pasty with the sudden change of climate, she was… well, a new woman, really.

"I'm on a mission. Have you seen either my partner or my parentals? I came over with that other crazy bridesmaid, Valerie, or whatever her name is, and I seem to have lost them," Eli said with concerned curiosity as she glanced around the room.

"Ahh… Haven't seen young William, but I could swear I saw Howl and Toni a few minutes ago when we were coming in," Emilia answered with a shrug.

"Hmm. I'll have to go hunting, Will seemed determined to make sure that he's standing next to me all evening," she sighed, continuing her glances around the room.

"Well that's because you're wearing a low-cut dress with no back," George pointed out informatively.

"Hey, I was all for the jeans and tee-shirt idea, but _no_, bridesmaids have to dress up in this ridiculous ceremony," Eli retorted with slight annoyance.

"Hi."

Both girls turned to face a rather repugnant looking young man of about twenty-two years, wearing a very sharp suit, his eyes trained on their chests.

"Wanna dance?" he questioned, not really directing his question to either of the girls, just throwing the request out in the open for whoever was so desperate to accept it.

"George, darling, do you mind, sugar-plum?" Emilia crooned sweetly, turning to her companion, who grimaced, and rolled his eyes.

"I meant the brunette," the man muttered, upon realising that the blonde was taken by a man much taller and stronger than himself.

"Sweetheart, found a friend?" a rather loud, deep baritone voice questioned suddenly. A relieved expression passed over Eli's face as William Darcy strolled up right behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist from behind and pressing a soft kiss to the side of her cheek. The man blanched.

"I – uh –"

"We haven't met, little man. I'm Elizabeth's fiancée. Heir to _Darcy Inc_. And you are?" he questioned coolly, turning his hard gaze to the stranger, who was loosing colour very quickly.

"I – uh – R – Russel – I – I have to go," he squeaked out nervously, disappearing as fast as his little legs could carry him. Darcy sniggered as he wheeled his partner around, and pulled her in for a short kiss on the lips.

"That was mean, calling him 'little man'," Eli said with mock sternness. Darcy fought a smirk.

"He was short, and he was talking to you when he should have been up a tree somewhere evolving opposable thumbs," he retorted with a grin.

"Seen Toni and Nada?" she questioned after a sigh that indicated she had given up on his distorted perspective.

"Emilia's Dad found Toni – she's not getting away from him until she's bathed in ethanol to kill all the germs she must have obtained, using the loo and all, and Howl got caught by Henrietta," he answered, winding his arms around her waist. "How do you feel about stuffing out faces with ridiculously tiny portions of Lord-knows-what?" he suggested cheerfully.

"Sorry Em, George, I've had a better offer," Eli informed her companions with a quick grin, before she allowed herself to be pulled away by her partner.

"They're annoyingly cheerful," George murmured out with slight bitterness. Emilia raised a curious brow at his comment.

"Oh, so they're not allowed to be happy now?" she teased.

"They're dripping with cuteness. It's nauseating," he retorted simply.

"Well, I _can_ agree with you there," she laughed, glancing back over at the happy couple. "I bet we'll be dressing up for their wedding pretty soon, you know," she added, her pale eyes sparkling.

"She's barely nineteen, Em, and he's not even twenty-two yet," George objected.

"What's turned you into a bitter old man, Gigi? So cynical," Emilia sighed teasingly.

"Humph," George sniffed impetuously. "Perhaps it's that annoying little waif always following me around," he mused with false thoughtfulness.

"Oh quiet you, I'm gorgeous and you love me – you can't deny it," she retorted smugly. "Now come on – I want to dance!" she cried, pulling at his hand as she dragged him to the centre of the room, where a few couples were already indulging in the same act.

George couldn't help but laugh as he unwillingly complied to his companion's wishes. Emilia had always been very good at making him do things he didn't want to do, she seemed to have power over his very being.

They had known each other for years. His father had been a close associate with Henry Woodhouse, and his mother very tight with Sophia, Emilia's mother. George had known the family since before Emilia was even born, his former-step-brother Jon married Emilia's elder sister Bella and he was the Godfather of their two children, Harrison and Lucas. Emilia had grown up always having George by her side, she took his constant presence in her life for granted.

George Knightley had been in love with Emilia for seven years. Seven painful years filled with misery, hope, disappointment and longing. Seven years of torment whilst she remained happily ignorant of his distress.

"What'ya thinking there, Gigi?" she questioned, a grin creeping onto her lips as she raised her eyes to note his distant expression.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing, just trying to work out how you could possibly think _you_ were responsible for James and Taylor getting together," he brushed her off quickly, pasting a casual grin over his frown has he had done so many times before.

"I did _too_ set them up!" she huffed impetuously. He gave a slight snigger.

"Oh don't sulk, it's just depressing," he teased, her pale eyes flashing with challenge.

"Quiet. I'm not sulking. I'm happy. Taylor is my fourth best friend," she denied factually. "I'm happy for her. She's married to a nice guy, I helped set them up, and they're about to embark on a wonderful life together," she continued, speaking with determination.

"You didn't set them up – and you're miserable because Taylor's no longer going to be devoted to you," he objected.

"I did _too_ set them up, and I'm not that selfish," she sniffed impetuously, brushing a stray curl behind her ear with exaggerated effort. "I _did _set them up – they never would have met if it weren't for me," she stated. "Cade bumped into us when we were coming back from the ladies that night at the club, we never would have been walking there if it hadn't been for me having to go," she explained smugly. George almost snorted in laughter.

"With that reasoning, you could blame their entire relationship on your bladder," he pointed out. "Or, on the bartender who gave you your drinks. _Or_ on the drinks themselves! Or even on the alcohol company that made them!" he reasoned. "There you have it. Another love created by a multi-national, multi-millionaire corporation. It's a conspiracy," he continued, his dark cerulean eyes twinkling teasingly, the flecks of gold shining brightly under the atmospheric hall lighting, the direct result of the fluorescent bulbs shining behind endless streams of crepe paper and drapery.

"Quiet, you," she demanded of him, fighting the smile on her own face. "It's totally not fair. You seem to be under the impression that you're the coolest thing since sliced bread, and I can't even do something to better the world around me without you accusing me of being… the really shit thing that sliced bread replaced," she said with a slight pout. George sniggered.

"Yes, Emilia, that's exactly what I mean. You're the un-sliced loaf of bread."

She rolled her eyes, and moved his hands down from her shoulder and side of her ribs to her waist as she raised her own arms to pull her hair from the ornate chignon. George practically trembled with the touch, but hid his reaction, simply swallowing down his verbal expressions of delight.

Her hair fell down slightly past her shoulders in blonde layers of curls, framing her perfectly structured face. Over the years, the sun had made its mark on her hair, lending an attractive selection of natural highlights to her once white-blonde locks. Her eyes shone as brightly as ever, in a deep, intense pale blue framed by long lashes and intelligently arching eyebrows. She wound her arms around George's neck, and sighed as she rested her head on his chest.

"So sleepy," she murmured tiredly, fighting a yawn. George smiled softly as he pulled her slightly closer to his body, indulging in the sensation of her beautifully perfumed hair tickling beneath his chin.

"Did you enjoy the ceremony?" he asked softly.

"It was lovely. Taylor looked stunning, and James couldn't have been happier," she commented, her eyelids fluttering to a close as she allowed her tired body to relax against him. "The flowers were perfect, everyone was beautifully dressed, the music was tasteful, the priest was excellent, and not one random but dramatic objection from a former lover to be seen," she sighed happily.

"Hmm. The bitterness is almost… sad," he chuckled. Emilia rolled her deep blue eyes.

"I'm not bitter," she declared, in a finalising tone. "Didn't Eli look amazing in her dress? Will looked like he was going to murder that guy in the front row checking her out," she commented, changing the topic.

"You _are_ bitter, and yes, Eli looked wonderful," he replied. "But she always does. And William always wants to rip _something_ off of every man she ever comes in contact with," he added.

"I am _not_ bitter!" Emilia objected. "And I agree with you – Eli _does_ always look beautiful. Scarlet really suits her, I'm glad Taylor chose it over the lavender. I know William thought she looked gorgeous," she continued.

"I feel like we're having two different conversations," George murmured, shaking his head slightly. "Alright – we're in agreement. Eli looked wonderful, she always looks wonderful, William is completely and totally devoted to and _incredibly_ possessive, but you still seem to be denying that you're bitter," he stated. She snorted sarcastically.

"I'm not bitter," she assured firmly, pulling away from him slightly to flash him a stern look of disapproval. "I love Tay, and I love James, and I _did_ set them up – end of discussion," she finished.

"I haven't the patience to argue with you – but you're wrong," he assured her shortly.

"Lies."

"No lies."

"House of lies. Wedding of lies!"

"Ah, I'll accept wedding _reception_ of lies, but otherwise you're just stupidly wrong, compared to stubbornly wrong," he retorted instantly. Emilia hid back a laugh, and merely shook her head, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"You two aren't bickering again, are you? Does it _ever_ end?" came a questioning voice from behind.

"Good evening Mrs Weston, how do you do?" Emilia asked with teasing pomp as the song came to an end, and the bride approached.

"Hmm. 'Mrs Weston' – it's going to take me a while to get used to that," Taylor sighed dreamily in response. "We were all going to get drunk and stuff our faces before speeches – we all think that they'll go down better when everyone is intoxicated. Care to down a glass?" she offered cheekily. George groaned and rolled his dark eyes.

"Em, you've corrupted Taylor. She _never_ used to be this bad," he scolded his companion, who stifled a giggle.

"Why _thank you_, Gigi, such a privilege to note that my talents don't go unappreciated," she laughed cheerfully.

"You look gorgeous, hun. Did you loose weight again?" Taylor questioned, ignoring the beginnings of another bickering-match between the two. Emilia beamed.

"Just a kilo, nothing much," she shook it off. Taylor raised a brow.

"You're too skinny already! Eat something, girl!" she instructed firmly.

"However are you going to survive without Taylor looking after you, Em?" George questioned curiously.

"I thought that _you_ were the one looking after her," Taylor retorted. George rolled his dark eyes.

"Like I get the chance! She never listens to a word I say, the little scatter-brain," he explained with slight annoyance, wincing as Emilia slapped him lightly on the side of his arm. "Hitting me isn't denying it, blondie," he reminded her.

"Jeez, I should hang out with people better for my ego!" she exclaimed. "I'll see you two in a minute, I'm going to go find Eli and see how she's handling scary-possessive Darcy and creepy-intoxicated men," she informed them, and tossing her curls over her shoulder, she practically floated away.

"She looks stunning," Taylor commented quietly, noticing George's intent staring as he watched his young companion cross the room.

"She always looks stunning," he murmured in response, with a slight frown, as if that fact displeased him slightly.

"She's not seeing anyone, is she?" she questioned curiously. George tensed up immediately, and she hid a small smile. She knew how George felt about Emilia, she was very much the observer, and to most it was incredibly obvious that he was completely head over heels for Emilia Woodhouse.

"No. She went on a few dates last month, but nothing she seemed to be serious about," he shrugged simply, his frown growing as he watched her turn down a hopeful applicant for her hand in a dance.

"I was thinking of setting her up with someone, you know," Taylor teased him conversationally. He raised a brow, and sent her a rather annoyed expression.

"Oh really? You think you've found someone to put up with her?" he asked with slight curtness, but Taylor wasn't discouraged, she knew that George had the tendency to be quite selfish with Emilia's affections. Discouraging her was just another method to isolate the two of them from everyone else.

"Maybe. James has a little half-brother, Frank," she replied with a slight shrug.

"_Frank_? Oh, and you obviously think he's perfect for her?" he practically sneered.

"I've only met him once or twice, but he's very charming. About twenty-three, successful, handsome, educated, I don't know if he'd be _perfect_ for her, but they would be a good match," she replied, hiding her smugness. She was getting enjoyment out of his reaction to her suggestions.

"Twenty-three? He's nothing but a boy, he sounds foolish already," he muttered bitterly in response.

"And you think Emilia needs a man? She's only twenty-one, she could do with one or two boys," Taylor pointed out.

"She doesn't need someone to drag her down. She's successful, talented, rich, clever and gorgeous – she doesn't need to be hanging off some fop's arm that does nothing but increase her vanity with empty praise," he snapped.

"It could be good for her, to have a boyfriend," Taylor threw in casually. George snorted.

"She's also very young, very flighty, and very over-confident. Some simpering boy that would only shower her with false compliments so she remains his pet isn't what she needs, she needs to have her cage shaken a little, she needs to have something in her life that doesn't just appear like magic for her," he retorted with slight anger.

"Maybe she should be in love," Taylor mused thoughtfully.

"Maybe. But only if she's uncertain about it being returned," he finished. "I'm going to go get a drink," he muttered finally, stepping away from the bride. Taylor hid a smug grin – every now and then George needed to be reminded of his true feelings for Emilia, she had decided a few years ago, and jealously was a very good reminder.

"You right?" Howl Llewellyn questioned his friend George a few moments later at the bar. Howl clapped his friend on the back, and sent him a slightly concerned glance over.

Howl and George had been close friends for years. They were a few months apart in age, as well as occupations and countries of birth, but they had several things in common with each other, such as their love of music, and their past periods of unrequited love. Howl's story had ended happily, however, he married Antoinette Noëlle, his partner of two years (off and on, admittedly) and adopted Elizabeth Bennett, the former troubled daughter of unfeeling parents. They were all perfectly cheerful with their existence, Toni finally received love equal or greater to the love she gave to others, Eli was calm, stable and happy, and Howl's formerly very serious case of Bi-Polar Disorder had even become far more manageable.

Howl would express his condolences in George's situation, constantly remind him that there was hope, but it only increased his misery.

"Humph. Taylor wants to set Emilia up with some little fop," he murmured bitterly, taking a mouthful of scotch and wincing with its effect.

"Have you _met_ the little fop?"

"No. But I had the description – he's a fop," he assured him.

"And clearly you're not happy with this?" Howl offered him simply. George nodded morosely.

"I'm never happy with men parading in front of _my _Emi. But it's not my place to – no, this is a wedding, I'm not supposed to be miserable," he sighed finally, finishing off his scotch and rising to his feet. Howl raised a brow.

"If you can't cry at a wedding, when _can_ you?" he asked teasingly.

"Dunno. A funeral, perhaps?" George suggested.

"Point taken."

"Oh, by the way, do you know Taylor's cousin Daniel?" George asked suddenly.

"Uhh… the womaniser with no sense of propriety?" Howl questioned vaguely.

"Yep. He's hitting on your wife and kid," he pointed out. "Just thought I'd let you know," he added simply.

"Duly noted, but this should be amusing, regardless," he retorted, leading his friend along as they drifted across the sidelines to watch the confrontation.

"So… you ladies single? Any room to play?" the man, in his late twenties with a bit of a beer gut and rapidly thinning hair questioned, raising his brows and lilting his voice so his intent was very obvious.

"Mummy, what's the strange man talking about?" Eli questioned Toni suddenly, her voice a little _too_ 'innocent' as she stared up at her adopted mother with wide eyes.

"I'm not sure, baby. Do you think he could be one of your Daddy's friends? Now _where_ is my husband? Maybe he's talking to that lovely boyfriend of yours," Toni mused thoughtfully, her tone a little theatrical, but it was clearly going over the man's balding head.

"She's your _kid_?" the main exclaimed in horror, stepping back slightly.

"What can I say, I was a player in preschool," Toni sighed, wrapping an arm around Eli's shoulders.

"Mummy says I was an accident."

"Quiet, sweetie," Toni shushed her 'daughter', whilst trying to hide the threat of laughter in her voice.

"So… I guess neither of you would be interested in the best night of your lives?" the man offered, his smirk hinting at slight anxiety, clearly their little 'mother-daughter' display was freaking him out.

"I'd think not. Darling, would you like some wine?" Howl interrupted, stepping forwards, and placing his arm around Toni's waist. Daniel's eyes widened.

"Oh! You're that music teacher!" he exclaimed.

"Indeed, but you can call me husband to the woman you were hitting on, and father to the minor," he offered sarcastically. Daniel took another wary step back. "I'd advise you leave, my wife has a terribly short fuse and she throws an excellent punch," he added with false cheerfulness.

They all fell into sniggers as the man disappeared rather hastily. Even George found himself smiling somewhat, if not for the way they so brilliantly messed with the tool, but because of the happy scene that they presented. The Llewellyn family were just… happy. Almost sickeningly so.

George took a glass of champagne from one of the passing waiters, swallowing it down as if it were nothing more than water. Fixing a smile on his face, he stepped towards the happy family, shielding his acedia with a mask of overall complacency. That mask seemed to fit better than any evening coat or fashionable wedding jacket.

"Hmm. Not getting depressed, are you?" Toni enquired curiously, noting the unhappy glint of his eyes. He chuckled, and brushed her off.

"No, not at all. I'm so cheerful that I might go searching for that cousin of yours, stop her from completely intoxicating herself," he replied with a grin, and a nod, before leaving the group in search of his blonde-haired shadow.

He hated weddings.

**A/N: Yay! I've finally uploaded the first chapter of the **_**'Love and Other Labels**_**' sequel! Joy! I will be updating every third night from now on (with a small break for my holiday in Port Stevens, yay!) but I really hope you guys like it :D It picks up three years after the events of '**_**Love and Other Labels**_**' and will be a combination Emilia/George, Toni/Howl and Eli/Darcy fic. As always, please review, I love to hear what you think!**


	2. Of Why Hello Luna

Emilia Odette Renée Woodhouse was in a rather crabby mood.

Anyone that knew Emilia well (or at least tolerably) would know that there was really only one person in the world who had the capacity to annoy her to the point of crabbiness, and that person was George Knightley.

"And _then_ do you know what he said?"

"'Oh pookey-baby-cakes, I _do_ love you so! Take me now, fool!'" Eli retorted dramatically, her dark eyes sparkling with brilliant humour as she rubbed the belly of a very contented Romulus, the large Siberian Husky that had quickly become the love of her life upon moving in with Howl and Toni.

"_Not _funny."

"I'll try some of my other material on you later," Eli promised with a laugh, ignoring her friend's dangerous glare. "So what did he say then?" she questioned, kicking her sneakers off the edge of her bed, where they landed on the impossibly fluffy green rug spread over her floor with a satisfying _thump_.

"He said that I _didn't _set Tay and James up, even though we'd already reached a sort of stalemate at the reception, and that I just wanted to _think_ I had because I take too much pleasure sticking my nose into other people's lives!" she exclaimed, squeezing the toy Kangaroo on her friend's bed to emphasise her point. "He seems to think that I just _love_ doing 'good deeds' for others for my own benefit, it makes me feel good about myself and apparently that's a selfish crime worthy of the gallows!" she continued, growing all the more animated in her frustration. Eli raised a brow doubtfully.

"He's probably just jealous that you rescue wildlife, protest against war and you're the cutest damn eco-warrior that Great Britain has ever seen, whilst he runs a production company and lives out of Styrofoam take-out boxes," she rationalised.

"_I_ happen to live out of those too, you know," she pointed out begrudgingly. "I mentioned that I wanted to set other people up like I did Tay and James, and he just snapped – he said that it was stupid to set other people up, and I gave others ideas and they were forced into awkward situations that no one wants," she sighed, sinking down into the warm covers of her friend's bed.

"Well it's a bit of a stretch to say that you set up Tay and James, it was more like a first attempt at matchmaking," Eli rationalised. "Personally I'm not big on matchmaking – it rings a little too familiar for me, but if it makes people happy…" she shrugged. Emilia winced.

"Sorry," she murmured sheepishly, recalling the events of three years prior. At the tender age of sixteen, Eli had been informed by her (insane) parents that she was to marry William Darcy, and that there would be no arguments or objections from her. Several months and quite a great deal of heartache later, Eli ended up seeking a separation from her parents and being adopted by Howl and Toni.

"I don't mind. If it's gentle probing in the right direction, I say go for it, help as many people as you can, but you need to remember that you can't play God," Eli reminded her. "Cupid maybe. But only probe in the direction that won't hurt anyone involved and you should be fine. Who cares about what George thinks, you help people because you like to help people," she added with a shrug, laughing as Romulus gave a happy bark.

"You know what, you're right. I don't need his permission, I'm going to make some matches and I don't care if he likes it or not," Emilia retorted firmly.

"That's the spirit! Now I'm in the understanding that you have a job –" Eli began teasingly.

"I'm coming in late today. I just needed to vent," she sighed in response, before a happy little grin came over her face. "I'm going to have so much fun. Maybe I can make another marriage by the end of this year!" she practically squealed with excitement. Eli rolled her eyes.

"A bit ambitious there, hun. Be happy if the world doesn't explode on you and God doesn't smite you for trying to steal his job," she advised with twinkling eyes. Emilia laughed as she slid off the top of the bed and onto her feet.

"Thanks for the venting session – can I convince you to come to work with me today?" she asked hopefully. Eli rolled her eyes, Emilia was always trying to get her to come into work and model or give her opinions on the new designs, the latter of which she did quite often, but not often enough for her friend's liking.

"Sorry, I've got piles of reading for class that I need to finish and an afternoon rehearsal that's going to keep me pretty busy," she apologised.

"Ah well. You'll have to come in Friday, we're getting in the first samples of the Autumn line from the manufacturers, I ordered you one of everything," she informed her smugly.

"Good. Because I'm _totally_ running out of clothes," Eli retorted sarcastically with a roll of her eyes that landed on her practically exploding closet.

"We'll go through your stuff on Thursday and donate what you don't wear, we'll make a day of it," Emilia decided excitedly.

"Dear God. What have I gotten myself into?"

"I'll see you later hun, start making room for your new wardrobe!" Emilia called, before slipping out of her friend's bedroom. Eli gave Romulus one last pat and a sigh.

"That girl is a bit loopy, don't you think?" she laughed. Romulus gave a happy bark in agreement. "Come on then boy, Keats won't read himself," she sighed, reaching over to the bedside table for her book.

~ * ~

Emilia ran the words of her friends through her head on a continuous spiral as the day progressed. She couldn't help but mull over what George had said. Did she really only help people to make her feel better about herself?

"I'm a horrible person," she sighed into her pile of paperwork.

"No you're not," a patient voice came from the doorway.

"Nellie, am I going straight to hell?" Emilia questioned miserably, raising her head to regard her incredibly sensible secretary, Ellen Dashwood, who had the best skills in rationality out of all her acquaintances.

"Of course not," Ellen assured her firmly, stepping into the office with another thick folder of paperwork.

"Hmm. Purgatory first then," she muttered bitterly, taking the folder with an expression of extreme disgust. "I'm supposed to be living a glamorous life where I spend my days designing gorgeous clothing – _why_ did no one tell me that being a designer meant a _lot_ of paperwork?" she questioned to no one in particular as she flipped through the new assortment of papers.

"Because _George_ is still an up and coming label. These are the forms about entering your new line in the Paris Fashion Week that you requested," Ellen replied in her usual firm and factual tones.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," she sighed, running a hand through her pale curls, which were falling out of her formerly smart bun, increasing her haggard and worn appearance. "Hang on, I told you to go home, didn't I?" she questioned with a slight frown.

"I'd rather be at work, really, Emilia," Ellen assured her.

"You should be with your family right now, Nellie," she said with her best attempt at sternness, but her concern was very evident. Ellen shrugged slightly.

It had only been three months since her father had died, but during that three months, the circumstances of her family had taken a bit of a downwards turn. Harold Dashwood hadn't anticipated dying so early, so his will (which hadn't been updated since before his second marriage) had left a great deal of his possessions to the son of his first wife, a weak and easily manipulated man with a very horrible spouse, who immediately tossed Ellen, her mother and two younger sisters Marianne and Madison out to live in one of the investment properties that they had thankfully been able to claim. They still had a fair amount of money, but they had been dragged away from the home that held so many happy memories at such a difficult time.

"I much prefer staying here," she said honestly. "Mum is just so tired all the time, Marianne is always in a terrible mood and Maddy is always complaining that she's bored without her horses, I prefer being here where I can keep busy and… distracted," she explained. Emilia's eyes softened at the confession.

"Need a hug?"

"I'm fine, don't worry," Ellen laughed in reply. "I just wanted to give you the forms. Oh, and marketing needed you to have a quick word with them about some of the advertising for the new line, you should pop in when you have a spare minute," she advised efficiently. Emilia nodded.

"Right after I've sorted all this out. Now go home and get some rest!" Emilia ordered, in her best attempt at playing the role of 'the boss'. Ellen's eyes twinkled merrily (it had seemed of late that it was almost impossible for them to do so) and she nodded, slipping out off the office in silence.

Emilia sighed miserably as she plugged her ipod into the speakers in her office, leaning back in the chair as the gentle sounds of a symphony soothed her aching muscles.

She loved her job. She really did. _George_ fashion was quickly rising in popularity, particularly amongst the chic young men and women of the UK and Europe, where eco-friendly and anti-slave-produced clothing that was also incredibly gorgeous and fashionable was a must-have. She loved being able combine her love of fashion with her desire to create change in the world, she loved the fashion shows, the advertising shoots and the charity events that seemed to be filling up her schedule, but it _was_ growing to be a very full schedule. Moments where she could just sit back and relax were growing few and far between.

Sighing, she sat up straight once more and resumed her paperwork. She might not _like_ signing forms and reading over contracts, but it was all necessary to allow _George_ clothing to exist. She managed to work through the pile of papers within the hour, and decided to stop off in marketing before she went out to lunch.

"Mrs Goddard? You wanted to see me?" she greeted the (somewhat constantly frazzled) head of Marketing as she headed down the hall and popped her head into a room filled with about fifteen young individuals, all tapping away at computers or speaking on phones.

"Oh, yes! I just wanted to see if we could arrange a meeting about some of the concepts we've developed for the new fall line?" she replied quickly, eager to lap up any attention that Emilia Woodhouse bestowed upon her.

"Of course, have you arranged a representative, or will you be pitching it yourself?" she questioned, her tone business-like and official, just as it always was when she was in 'work' mode.

"Oh! I would be _very_ happy to go over the details with you, Miss Woodhouse!" Mrs Goddard replied eagerly. Emilia smiled with slight awkwardness, and glanced around the room. Her eye caught the form of a young woman she had never seen before, and settled there with mild curiosity.

The young woman was about her age, give or take a few months. She had a very… unusual look about her. She reminded Emilia very strongly of Luna Lovegood from _Harry Potter_. She had almost white-blonde hair that trailed down to her waist in tresses that could use a comb and a trim, her eyes were wide, blue, and just a little big buggy, but overall she had a very attractive air to her. She was definitely pretty, although her sense of style left something to be wanting. She wore a light pink shirt with a unicorn over the bust and a pair of wrinkled Capri pants beneath a red-plaid skirt with daggy ballet flats, but they didn't really diminish her attractiveness. Her 'Dame Edna' framed reading glasses, however, didn't help. But regardless of her sense of dress, she _was_ very, very pretty.

"Who is she?" she questioned curiously. Mrs Goddard followed her employer's gaze, before reaching the target being scrutinised with a raise of her brow.

"Oh, that's Haley Smith, she just started," she answered, forgetting to use her 'sucking-up' voice.

"What does she do?"

"Mostly errands. She doesn't have much experience with advertising, just a two year certificate, but she's a friend of a friend, you know, and she's very helpful," she replied, watching the girl as she obliviously tapped away at a keyboard. "But… very odd. I think she's on something," she muttered thoughtfully.

"Perhaps she should do the pitch, and you could supervise her. She should get some experience," Emilia rationalised.

"Oh! What an _excellent_ idea, Miss Woodhouse! Haley will be thrilled," Mrs Goddard assured her. "So kind, for you to be thinking of just a lowly little employee – she's terribly lucky to have you as her employer!" she exclaimed with delight. Emilia gave a modest smile.

"That's quite alright. How does Thursday morning sound to you? That should give her some time to prepare for the pitch," she replied.

"Of course, that sounds perfect!"

"Good. Nine o'clock then, in my office. I'll see you on Thursday," she finished, a distinct note of cheerfulness in her voice, a warm glow filling her. Yes, she would do what she could for this 'Haley Smith' – she looked to be in desperate need of a makeover. And perhaps… it could be a good opportunity to try out some of her matchmaking skills? She was instantly filled with eagerness and excitement. Work had suddenly become very interesting!

~ * ~

Thursday came far too slowly, the anticipation of a new project to distract herself making Emilia anxious to finally meet this Haley Smith. Her suspense was increased with her irritation in not being able to _tell_ anyone about her plans, she wasn't sure how Eli would feel about it and she _knew_ that George would only be negative, Taylor was still on her honeymoon and she didn't have many other close friends, she preferred to know a few people very well and be very close with them than have a group of hanger-ons.

"Miss Woodhouse?" came a nervous, chirpy voice from the doorway to Emilia's office. She looked up from the mock-up of a six page spread that would appear in _Vogue_ the next month to take in the nervous girl before her.

She had apparently ditched the ridiculous unicorn shirt, but it was now replaced with a pale purple sweater, bearing a fluffy kitten across the bust, a little satin bow having been sewn to one of its ears. She wore an awkward looking denim skirt and lurid candy-striped stockings with Doc Martins that were in desperate need of repair. Her long hair was braided with feathery pink bows at the ends, and she wore no makeup, only dark blue lipstick, which clashed horribly with her red-framed rhinestone glasses. Emilia wanted to wince, but she held it in.

"You must be Haley. Please come in and sit down," she requested sweetly. The girl released a nervously held-in breath and stepped into the stylish and comfortable office, looking remarkably out of place in the tasteful surroundings. Cheap plastic bracelets clattered around the girl's wrist as she raised her hand to push the unhappily-cut bangs from her forehead. She took her seat in the comfortable black leather office chair before Emilia's desk, and swallowed rather obviously. "Is Mrs Goddard not with you?" Emilia questioned politely, not wanting to frighten the clearly nervous girl.

"She – She called in sick, but she said I should do the pitch by myself," Haley stuttered out anxiously, clutching onto the manila folder in her hand as if it were her lifesaver. Emilia hid an amused smile, Haley was so ill at ease!

"That's quite alright. How are you enjoying working here?" she questioned in kind response, taking the folder from her calmly, without sudden movements to frighten her.

"Umm… I really like it. I'm not that into fashion –" it was here that Emilia nearly spilt the hot coffee she was sipping all over the folder in her hand "– but it's really cool to work in such a fancy big company!" she said eagerly, in a very slow, drawn out Irish accent. She dragged her eyes away from Emilia to stare at a point on the ceiling with intense concentration. Emilia blinked in surprise, somewhat disconcerted. She looked over her shoulder at the corner of the ceiling, but there was nothing there.

"Uhhh… I'm glad you like it," she found herself muttering. Haley snapped out of her daze, and with a lazy smile, returned her eye contact. "So would you like to explain some of the ideas that you have for me?" she inquired politely.

"Oh! Yeah, umm, I thought of like – putting pictures of _George_ clothing in magazines and stuff?" she suggested, blinking her wide hazel eyes stupidly. Emilia wanted to smack her palm against her forehead.

"Uhh… well, that sounds like a good idea – but we actually do quite a lot of that already," she informed her with a kind smile.

"Oh. I forgot," Haley muttered thoughtfully. "But that was just my idea. Mrs Goddard wrote the report, she just told me to tell you about it. I make coffee," she stated with a shrug.

"Coffee? Is that all you do in the office?" Emilia questioned doubtfully.

"Well, I also photocopy things, and do the really easy paperwork, Mrs Goddard called be really useful! I think they really like me there," she said excitedly. "They even gave me a nickname! They call me 'Lackey'. I think it's really cute," she added, her eyes shining eagerly.

Emilia blinked in surprise. Sure, the girl was pretty, beneath all those layers of horrible clothing, but she didn't really have much in terms of intellect going for her.

"Umm… alright, Haley, thank you for bringing this in, I'll have a look at it in a minute," she assured her, patting the top of the file slightly. Haley beamed. "So where are you from then?" she asked curiously, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Dublin. My Mam said that she's pretty sure my Dad was an Englishman and she said I should get to know my 'roots'," she replied smartly.

"She's 'pretty sure' your Dad was English?" Emilia questioned, raising a brow doubtfully.

"Oh, well she narrowed my Dad down to three men, and two of them were English, so I'd say my chances were good," she replied with a grin. Emilia nodded, trying not to look disconcerted.

"So you don't know who your father is?"

"No… Mam said she didn't really know any of the men that could be him, so I don't know anything about him, really," she replied with a shrug.

"And how old are you?" she asked, shifting the conversation along.

"I'm just about to turn twenty-one, I'm _really_ excited," she gushed.

"And do you have a boyfriend?" she probed curiously, testing the waters.

"Ohh… no. But – there's this guy that I like… he's pretty cute," she murmured quietly.

"Really? What's his name?" she asked excitedly, leaning forwards in eager anticipation.

"Bobby Martin. He's _really_ sweet," she confessed with a giggle.

"And does he like you?" Emilia questioned, trying not to sound doubtful.

"I – I _think_ so," she giggled. "Oh! But aren't you dating someone?" she inquired with a slight frown.

"Not at all. I enjoy being single," she replied proudly. Haley's eyes widened in surprise.

"_Really_? I hate it. It makes me feel sad," she confessed.

"Well I'm a very independent person by nature, I don't need a boyfriend right now," Emilia explained with a casual shrug. "Maybe one day, but until I meet the right person I'm perfectly content staying single," she added lightly.

"Wow… I wish I were like that… I can be a little dependant, my Mam says," she admitted.

"That's fine too, Haley," Emilia assured her positively. The girl beamed at her kind response.

A warm golden glow started to fill Emilia's heart. She made a promise then and there to help Haley Smith live up to her full potential – and George could go stick his finger in a pencil sharpener if he thought she was only doing it for selfish means.

"I think we're going to be good friends, you know Haley," she informed the delighted girl with a smile as she leant back in her office chair.

New projects were always fun.

**A/N: Yay, second chapter! Unfortunately (for you guys) I won't be updating until next week, tomorrow I'm going on holiday to Port Stevens where I will spend lots of time relaxing on the beach and being awesome. Cough. Cough. Oh! And guess what? I'M NOW A YEAR TWELVE STUDENT!!! Yay, last year of school! Whoo! It won't be long before I'm a grown-up and everything! Joy!**


	3. Of the Other Sides of the Coin

"Good Lord Em, leave the poor girl alone!" George practically growled that night after she had relayed her adventures of the day.

"I'm not going to _corrupt_ her, you know," she informed him coolly, pulling plates out from the cupboard with an indignant scowl. "We were just talking, and she and I seemed to really hit it off," she defended herself.

"Oh really? So will it be a Civil Service, or will you get the real thing done in some obscure country in the middle of nowhere?" he retorted sarcastically.

"Ha ha," she drawled with a roll of her pale eyes, setting the plates down on the breakfast table with unnecessary force. "She's _nice_, but she desperately needs a little direction – the girl wore a kilt over bloody Capri pants the other day!" she exclaimed. George winced slightly at the visual, but he didn't relent.

"I don't care. Everyone has the right to express themselves in ways that they feel comfortable with – you don't want to turn her into a mini-Emilia, let her make her own decisions without your 'guidance'," he instructed sharply, pulling off the plastic container lids for their meal of takeaway Chinese. "If this 'Helen' girl wants to wear mismatching clothes, then let her," he ordered.

"Her name is _Haley_ – and I can't allow her to expose herself to ridicule and abuse like that! She's a really pretty girl and she's hiding all of that behind bad clothing and really weird glasses!" she objected.

"What, so you want her to flaunt her beauty just like you do? Showing off her looks for attention?" he questioned pointedly. Emilia bit the inside of her cheek in repressed anger as George let out a long sigh. "Listen, I know you're just trying to help her, but –"

"No, you _don't_," she snapped. "I'm not trying to make her a bloody prostitute George, people think she's crazy and they just walk all over her in that office, if she wants to survive in the real world she can't go on like that!" she found herself practically shouting. George lowered his eyes, but he still looked rather disgruntled.

"I didn't mean to – I know you don't '_flaunt_', but you can't turn her into a mirror image of yourself," he muttered.

"I don't want her to be a mirror of me, George, I want her to be happy and successful in her life," she retorted coolly. "I'm going to go. Clearly you're in a shit mood – so I'm not even going to bother," she stated calmly, stepping away from behind the breakfast counter to the door.

"Don't, Em," he requested with a sigh, reaching for her hand. "Come on. We don't have to agree on _everything_, let's just eat," he suggested.

"Fine," she muttered after a short pause. "But only because I'm hungry and you've all but admitted complete and total defeat," she assured him firmly. He rolled his eyes, and released her hand.

"Whatever. I'm standing on my side of the line, and you can have yours all to yourself," he said graciously, raising his hands up in surrender.

"Well that's good enough for me," she replied cheerfully, pulling the container of honey-soy chicken towards her plate eagerly, the argument closed.

For now.

~ * ~

"Who is it?" Darcy asked curiously as his lovely girlfriend leant forwards to pick up her buzzing phone from the coffee table.

"Em. She said 'George can't admit that I might be right in helping Haley, but it's okay because I got the chicken'," she read aloud.

"Translation please," he requested dumbly. Eli gave a slight snigger as she returned to the crook of his arm as they sat curled up on the couch, watching '_The Bill_' with little interest.

"She made friends with this new girl at the office, apparently she's a bit of a nutter, and she wants to give her a few tips about surviving in reality," she began simply, sliding her phone open to begin texting a response. "I was pretty sure George would disapprove of it, and I don't get the chicken reference, but I assume they're eating dinner," she shrugged.

"She's not playing matchmaker again, is she?" Darcy questioned warily.

"I'm not sure. She said she likes it," she replied simply.

"You _do_ know that she didn't _really_ set up Taylor and James," he clarified, sounding rather concerned. Eli rolled her dark eyes.

"Nu-_duh, _but I don't _tell_ her that I know she didn't, she's perfectly happy living in her fantasy world," she answered, clicking 'send' and slipping the phone into her pocket.

"Err… do you think that there's something going on between George and Em?" Darcy questioned carefully, after a short pause had enveloped them.

"_How_ did you get into Oxford?" she exclaimed teasingly.

"What? Do you mean that there isn't anything between them?"

"I'm not at liberty to say, but it took you _this long_ to think something was up?" she responded in surprise. Darcy shifted sheepishly.

"I dunno, I don't tend to notice that sort of stuff. I've been rather distracted for the past four years," he answered with a shrug. Eli laughed, and then looked thoughtful.

"Wow. We've known each other for _four years_," she exclaimed softly.

"The majority of that first year, however, you hated me," he pointed out. She laughed into the crook of his arm as she pulled her legs up beneath her form.

"I didn't 'hate' you, you were annoying because you seemed so… stuck up," she admitted slowly.

"_Stuck up_? You thought I was _stuck up_?" he questioned incredulously, causing another laugh.

"You weren't exactly friendly, you know," she pointed out simply. "I don't think I fell in love with you until I spent the week at your Aunt's place, I didn't _realise_ it until the day after we performed the musical pieces from class, and I was too terrified to actually admit it to myself," she explained with a shrug.

"And when exactly did you stop thinking I was stuck up?" he asked carefully. Eli stifled a giggle.

"You imply there that I _did_," she pointed out with a cheeky sparkle in her dark eyes. Darcy assumed an expression of extreme offence.

"_Really_ Elizabeth, you can be so cruel sometimes," he sniffed playfully, turning his head away from her with a little '_humph_' of discontent. Eli couldn't help but laugh in response.

"Sorry, Headmistress du Bourg," she teased. Darcy's eyed widened and he turned back to her immediately.

"That's going to cost you," he assured her. She grinned.

"Prove it."

And that begun it. It started off with a very merciless attack of tickles, Eli's laughter ringing around the walls of Darcy's luxury apartment, before touches turned instead to gentle caresses, and lips met in embrace.

Darcy smiled against Eli's lips. She could be a bit annoying at times, but he loved her all the more for it.

It had been over three years since their relationship had begun anew, and those three years had been the happiest of their short lives so far.

~ * ~

Toni shifted sleepily against her husband, sitting in much the same position as Eli and Darcy a few miles away, letting out a small, tired sigh.

"Bedtime, I think," Howl announced in his deep voice that had sent shivers down the spines of most people he came in contact with. He ran a hand softly over his wife's white-blonde locks that fell just past her slender shoulders.

"I'm not tired," she murmured insistently against his shoulder. Howl chuckled.

"I have a suspicion that you're not being completely honest about that," he teased playfully.

"Meh. Maybe I am," she admitted between yawns.

"Things are still wearing you down at the office?" he questioned sympathetically. She gave a murmured sort of laugh.

"By 'office' you mean a former studio apartment with a few desks and computers thrown in, right?" she responded teasingly. "It's the new guy. You know that Deborah left to join the circus or whatever, right?" she questioned, to which Howl nodded. He had memorised the names and a few faces of all the people his wife worked with, and Deborah, from his understanding, seemed to be the boss of the twenty-person operation that was _Metamorphmagus Designs_. "Well she put this new guy in charge, Vincent. He's a bit of a prick," she explained.

"Do you think he's qualified?"

"I dunno. He gets people working, I guess, and our production has actually gone up this week, most people there like him, but…" she trailed off. Howl raised a brow in curiosity.

"But you don't?" he offered, to which she nodded slowly.

"He just makes me feel uncomfortable. He's a bit of a lecher," she explained, instantly feeling her husband tense.

"Has he – has he done anything inappropriate?" he questioned shakily. Toni lowered her head, and started picking at a loose thread on her sleave. "Antoinette?"

"He just… looks at me a lot, and talks to me more than anyone else, he's always making inappropriate comments and finding little ways to touch me," she answered quietly.

"And does he know that you've been married for three years?" he asked snappishly. Toni instantly moved to comfort him before his reaction turned into one of extreme anger.

Living with Howl's bi-polar disorder over the past five years they had been together had been difficult at times, particularly as her husband had a very low opinion of himself and couldn't understand what she saw in him, but slowly he had grown to trust her. There were still some days occasionally where he would loose control and his anger would be almost frightening, others when he was so depressed that he couldn't drag himself out of bed, and some when he was on such an ecstatic high that he proposed sky-diving and bungy jumping.

But as a family, Howl, Antoinette and Eli, they worked through those days. They tried to prevent extreme moods coming on as best they could, a simply hug from Eli seemed to be able to calm him down when he was in terrible anger, when he was depressed they all sat together in bed talking, laughing, playing board games and eating incredibly feel-good foods until they managed to get a smile out of him. When he was on a high, Toni took the initiative, and Eli left the house for a good few hours.

"The ring is pretty obvious, babe, and it says so on my employee file," she assured him, gently caressing his arm, before winding their hands together. "I think I'm just going to say that I feel uncomfortable, that I'm married and I'm faithful only to my extremely hot professor," she decided firmly. Howl hid a slight snigger.

"If he doesn't stop, I'm coming into the office –"

"– old apartment with a few desks, computers and a crappy coffee machine –"

"– fine, old apartment – and having a word with him man to vermin," he informed her. She nodded.

"Wear your scary face. That'll show him," she retorted with a slight grin. Howl laughed quietly.

"It would seem, my dear, that you're no longer tired," he pointed out slyly. Toni rolled her eyes and slid off the couch, walking towards their open bedroom door with purpose. She turned her head and winked cheekily at him, before disappearing into the darkened room.

It took Howl all of two seconds to join her.

~ * ~

"Miss Woodhouse, tell me again why we're here?" Haley asked curiously, peering through endless racks of clothing. Emilia sighed.

"Haley, I've _told_ you to call me Emilia, and we're inspecting the new stock," she explained, her tone hinting at slight agitation.

"Why?"

"To make sure there weren't any mistakes," she answered with a slight sigh.

"There's a mistake on this one. I have to take it home with me," Eli announced, pulling forth an extremely cute pale blue pinstriped dress.

"Didn't it turn out just great?" Emilia sighed happily, running her hands over the soft one hundred percent organic cotton. "Haley, this is your size, right?" she clarified, to which the girl nodded. "Lucky I ordered a few of the samples, this will look fantastic on you," she assured her, pulling another off the rack and practically thrusting it into the girl's hands. She stared at it with wide, bewildered eyes.

"B – but I can't just _take_ it!" she exclaimed with shock. Emilia rolled her eyes and brushed her objections off.

"The manufacturers give us up to half a dozen free samples of each piece every time we get in new stock. It doesn't cost anything," she assured her. "Everything in this room is free, take whatever you want, it's all ours," she added.

"Oh, remind me to get some stuff for Will and the parentals, I'm hoping that if I give Toni enough clothes she'll forget about her old _Clash_ shirt – it'd go great with those jeans I bought last week," Eli interjected excitedly, picking out the dress she held in rose pink.

"Do you do this all the time?" Haley questioned in shock.

"Every two months."

"I – I just can't believe it!" she exclaimed in wonder, looking around breathlessly at each piece. "_George_ clothing is usually so expensive, and it's just _free_ now!" she continued dreamily.

"Yes, but you have to be either in the boss' pants or her best friend," Eli pointed out with a grin. "And it helps if you can be both. But alas, I already have a super-hot partner," she sighed playfully.

"A partner? As in, like a husband or something?" Haley questioned curiously.

"Ahh… we're we got bored of the terms 'boyfriend and girlfriend' three years in, and 'lovers' just seems a little over the top," she shrugged.

"Oooh! Are you going to get married?" Haley squealed, blinking her wide hazel eyes behind her disgusting glittery frames. Eli mindlessly held up her hand, where the gorgeous diamond ring on her fourth finger glittered spectacularly as she continued to inspect the racks of clothing. "When?"

"End of this year, we haven't picked an exact date though."

"How long have you been engaged?" she babbled out excitedly, jumping forwards and taking in the magnitude of her jewellery.

"Since I was sixteen."

"Wow… that's weird," she murmured, tilting her head slightly. Eli held back the urge to snort in laughter, the girl was wearing white denim flare pants beneath a gruesome dusty brown velvet skirt and a snow-vest over what appeared to be the top half of her pyjama set, her long hair bunched into several buns around her head with dark purple lipstick and sandals… with socks. _Odd_ socks. She wasn't really in a position to deem anything under the sun but her reflection as 'weird'.

"I'm weird too, so I guess it fits," she shrugged, pulling out a cute little pastel-yellow frock to join her pile of new acquisitions.

"You have a really weird accent," Haley stated dumbly. Eli raised a brow as she stopped rifling through items of clothing.

"I'm Australian."

Haley's eyes widened instantly, and her mouth fell slightly.

"Really? But you don't _sound_ like Steve Irwin or Paul Hogan!" she cried in shock. Eli winced.

"There are three kinds of Australian accents, there's the normal one that most people have, like Nicole Kidman or Kylie Minoge, the cultivated one which is a bit English, like Geoffrey Rush, and then there's what I call the 'Bogan Accent', it's what every single foreigner seems to think Australians speak like," she snapped. "_Paul Hogan_ is probably the only living person in the world who talks like that, and because of his ridiculous 'Crocodile Dundee' movie the entire world thinks we live in the outback, 'throw shrimps on the barbie' and regularly go croc hunting," she continued with agitation.

"_Never_ mention Paul Hogan," Emilia advised Haley quietly, who looked quite horrified to have caused such a reaction.

"But I thought _all_ Australians –"

"I would advise you don't say anything at all," she hissed, noting the flash of anger in Eli's dark eyes.

"Uh… okay," Haley muttered, shifting to the other side of the room with haste.

"So what do you think of her?" Emilia asked quietly, stepping over to her friend when she was sure that Haley was out of earshot. Eli shrugged.

"She's not exactly the brightest crayon in the box."

"Not everyone can be as clever as you, Eli," Emilia reminded her patiently, to which the younger girl rolled her eyes.

"She just seems very… unaware. She takes daydreaming to the extreme," she explained simply. "I don't have much patience for her already, and I think I frighten her. I can't imagine us getting along," she shrugged, turning back to the seemingly endless racks of clothing. Emilia sighed, and pulled out a cute pair of waist-high jeans.

"I know she's not clever. If I were to be honest, I would admit that she's about the equivalent of a duck on the great spectrum of beings," she began slowly.

"I like ducks."

"I know, hun. But she's just – I don't know, she's very pretty, and very sweet, I feel like she can have more than insults and teasing from her co-workers," she explained.

"What exactly do you plan to do with her? She seems perfectly happy being unaware of the world around her, if I was naïve enough to have that kind of bubble I wouldn't want anyone to pop it," Eli pointed out.

"I'm not sure. First of all she needs a serious makeover, and maybe a bit of education. I'll take her to book club or something," she said thoughtfully.

"Since when do you go to book club?" Eli questioned, raising a brow curiously.

"I'll join if it gives her a little bit of knowledge or something to talk about. I don't want to _change_ her, just _improve_ her," she emphasised. Eli rolled her eyes.

"And for what purpose?"

"Does Elton count as a purpose?" she slyly asked in return.

"_Elton_? As in Elton Phillips, the only straight male in your class last year?" she questioned dumbly. Emilia beamed and nodded firmly.

"They would be _perfect_ together, he's so funny and cute, I _know_ that they would get along really well together!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"So… you're playing matchmaker then."

"Maybe just a few helpful hints and nudges to let them both realise that they're made for each other," she said offhandedly.

"George is going to kill you, you know," she pointed out in response, to which Emilia rolled her eyes.

"I don't care. He's a man, men don't understand this sort of stuff," she retorted. "Toni's birthday is in a few weeks, I'll make sure to invite both Haley and Elton, I'm _sure_ that they'll hit it off," she said with determination.

"Hmm. Convenient that, setting up their first meeting when George will be out of town," Eli murmured thoughtfully.

"I'm not afraid of him. I'd arrange it even if he were breathing down both their necks, when he sees how happy they are together he'll realise that he was wrong," she assured her friend. Eli laughed.

"I like the attitude, but love is a messy business. Will and I are lucky that we were meant for each other despite all the circumstances around our engagement, you can't always predict that sort of thing," she reminded her.

"I won't be forcing anyone into anything, I'll just make a few helpful suggestions here and there. This is just a little meeting, she said she likes someone else anyway, so it'll probably come to nothing," Emilia shrugged. "But I just want to do a good turn. If it works out between Elton and Haley, then great. If it doesn't, then there's no harm done," she rationalised, however, Eli still looked slightly suspicious.

"But you promise that you won't get too involved?" she questioned hopefully, to which Emilia nodded firmly.

"I'll help her dress up and throw a few good books in her path, I'm not going to be controlling her, Eli," she assured her finally. Eli grinned.

"Well then I heartily approve. As long as no hearts get broken, I say go for it," she replied, finally giving the consent that Emilia secretly craved. She gave a little squeal of excitement.

"Yay! Now that all that's settled we can focus on new clothes!" she continued, her perfect pink lips stretched into a brilliant smile.

"Hell, I've been focusing on this lot since the moment I walked in here, matchmaking is the furthest thing on my mind in this room," Eli laughed in response.

Emilia excitedly turned back to the racks of clothing, keeping her eyes out for things that would look nice on Haley. She couldn't wait to start her new project!

**A/N: Wow, I **_**just**_** got back from my holiday – and it was raining almost every day! But we saw lots of dolphins, I **_**didn't**_** turn as red as a lobster this year (always a plus) and I found some fantastic clothes up there. We had to buy another suitcase so I could bring everything home with me :D**

**Anyway, I took up my laptop, but told myself that I wouldn't write, I would concentrate on relaxing before the stress of year twelve, but there wasn't much to do in the pouring rain. My parents foolishly forgot to bring the little internet USB thingy to the beach house! Ahh! Anyway, I got bored so I started writing another fic, but as I didn't have 'The Hill' with me at the time I couldn't continue that. I'm so silly! I should have finished The Hill up there! Ahh!**

**Anyway, here's the next chapter, and a confession: I really dislike '**_**Love and Other Labels**_**'. I admit that I really just wanted to write an Emma fic, but I figured a crossover would be okay. So I'll be paying much more attention to 'The Hill' than I did '**_**Love and Other Labels**_**', even though I'm still preparing for year twelve and I'm going to go on a break from fanfiction soon… yeah, makes little sense. Sorry! But LAOL really bites. So far 'Sweet Lolita' has been my favourite, but we'll see how 'The Hill' goes…**

**Long author's note. Sorry bout that! Hope you're all enjoying your holiday (even though I don't think it's a holiday for the whole world)!**


	4. Of The Clash and Mango Magic

"Eli, if you don't get your butt out of your wardrobe and into the kitchen you can sleep in Romulus' bed tonight!" Toni called loudly down the hall to her adopted daughter. Howl sniggered as he pulled plates and cutlery from the cupboards.

"Poor Romulus, why is _he_ always the bargaining chip?" he questioned her teasingly. She rolled her eyes whilst pouring the beef stroganoff into a ceramic bowl, setting it down on the breakfast bench where they tended to eat dinner together.

"And do _you_ want to sleep in his bed tonight?" she asked doubtfully. He raised his hands in surrender after setting down the plates.

"Throw me out of my own bed? Shame on you, woman," he scolded her playfully.

"Hey, I'm not the one that hogs the sheets, might I remind you, so if anyone should be kicked out of bed, it'd have to be you," she pointed out.

"Possibly due to the fact that I prefer looking at you with as little covering as possible, but I'll bear it in mind," he responded with a mocking bow.

"Ew. You two really have to stop this whole 'loving-each-other' thing, it's getting quite disturbing," Eli announced, stepping into the kitchen with a slightly irritated expression.

"Shall I do my 'no _you_ hang up, Will' bit again, or will the disgustingly cute pet names you call each other suffice?" Howl questioned teasingly in response.

"Our telephone conversations consist of 'hi, how are you, good thanks, see you at six, bye', and these 'pet names' you speak of are nonexistent," she defended herself as she took a seat on one of the bar stools by the bench.

"You can keep saying it, cariad, but it doesn't make it true," he sighed, his amber eyes twinkling in playful jest. Eli was just about to object, before Toni interjected.

"Better not, hun, he's in an 'I'm so cute and funny' mood, you just can't win against him," Toni sighed, patting her comfortingly on the shoulder. Howl smirked as he dished up the meal. "What?" she questioned, raising a brow in curiosity.

"Nothing."

"Seriously, why are you smiling?"

"Can't I smile now? I have an incredibly gorgeous, talented, sexy –"

Eli interjected with a retching sound.

" – wife, haven't I every reason in the world to smile?" he questioned innocently. Toni narrowed her gaze.

"Spit it out," she demanded. He have a slight snigger.

"It's nothing, really," he assured her. "It's just… _cute_? Can't you do a little better than that?" he asked, trying to resist laughter. Toni sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes.

"You're right. He _is_ in one of those moods," Eli sympathised morosely.

"This is the bit where you whisper something suggestive in my ear, woman," Howl reminded his wife.

"How about 'you can do the washing up tonight'," she suggested with slight snappishness. Howl looked thoughtful as he tapped his chin slightly.

"Forgot you two did that," he mused aloud. Eli raised a brow.

"Did _what_? Be annoyingly _un_cheerful when you're bright and chirpy?" she offered vaguely.

"The biological tuning-in thing. You both have PMS at the same time, makes you just want to kill a puppy or rip up flowers on days like these," he sighed, taking a sip of his water.

"Can I?"

"No, sweetie, Will would get too upset if you were charged with murder, best leave it to me," Toni replied to Eli, before sending a withering glare to her husband, who was chuckling into his plate.

"Alright then. Please explain who had the worst day," he requested calmly, glancing between the two.

"I met a walking talking vegetable who wore Dame Edna glasses and dresses like a straight, blind man," Eli offered meekly.

"Interesting, but doesn't explain the aura of misery that you're emitting," Howl responded slowly.

"Will is going up to Pemberley again this week, and I have rehearsals," she informed him with a slight pout. "Is it sad and pathetic that I can't live a full week without him?" she asked curiously.

"No, it just means that you've been spending too much time around me – Llewellyn's tend to be typically very clingy," he answered, trying not to sound cheerful.

"He's been disappearing up to Pemberley quite a lot recently, are you sure he's not building you a small planet or something?" Toni questioned curiously, after swallowing and clearing her throat. "I mean, his housekeeper is overlooking the renovations, why does he need to be there in the first place?" she probed. Eli shrugged.

"I'm not sure. I think he's paranoid that we're going to have another setback and the opening date will have to be pushed back another year," she explained briefly.

"But perhaps that's for the best. The place needed a bit of restoration anyway, and you still have another year of University, you don't have the time to run a Performing Arts School," Howl pointed out rationally. Eli sighed as she pushed her food around on her plate.

"I know. But… I think he's bored. I mean, _I've_ still got another year of University, but he finished early, I think he's ready to start getting it up and running," she explained.

"I thought he was too busy working his way up in his father's business," Toni commented with a slight frown of confusion.

"It takes up a lot of his time, but he's still learning the ropes, he's not so busy that he can't have a hobby on the side, and setting up the Performing Arts School is becoming a bit more than a hobby," she answered. "I don't know. I think I'm being a bit selfish, but what with school and rehearsals and the business and Pemberley… We hardly get to see each other anymore. I miss him, that's all," she shrugged. Howl smiled sympathetically.

"That boy is almost frighteningly addicted to you, cariad, he's not going to be going very far anytime soon," he assured her. Eli gave a weak smile in return. "So then, dearest wife, what's got you so grumpy that my good humour is being wasted?" he questioned, turning to the other most-important-woman-in-his-life.

"It's nothing," she murmured quietly. He raised a brow, and glanced to Eli, who was looking rather curious.

"Is it about the issue at work?" he asked carefully, his voice turning immediately serious.

"What issue at work?" Eli questioned quickly.

"It's nothing, hun, just the newbie," Toni assured her. Eli continued to frown.

"I'm not an idiot, Toni," she reminded her. "I'm nineteen now, and if there's a problem, you can tell me about it, I'm no child," she added. A flicker of a smile passed on Toni's face.

"The new boss just makes me feel uncomfortable, that's all. Howl and I have discussed this, he knows that it's not a problem," she said calmly, giving Eli's hand a quick squeeze of reassurance.

"You can tell me, you know," she pointed out.

"I know. And if I were really worried, I would tell you all about the situation, but it's pretty simple, I'm just not used to the sudden change, I tend to get a little routine orientated," she explained briefly. Eli didn't look like she was satisfied with that answer, but, sensing that the issue wasn't going to be up for discussion, she turned back to her plate with a slight frown playing on her lips.

Howl met Toni's eyes, and she nodded, silently affirming that the issue was, indeed, concerning her new employer. He looked concerned, but didn't press the issue, he had no desire to bring it up in front of Eli.

Conversation turned to trivial matters, Eli explained the events of her day, Howl threw in a few amusing anecdotes about particular students or teachers, Toni gave a brief explanation of the project she was working on, and before long Eli was informing her guardians that she needed to revise the names of her musical directions, so she retreated to the study.

"So. A long bath, wine and _The Clash_?" Howl offered his wife sympathetically, gently pulling her away from the sink with concerned eyes. She tended to clean frantically when she was over thinking something, he knew her patterns well.

"Not _The Clash_. I need sulking music," she sighed quietly. He nodded in understanding, and led her towards the ensuite bathroom. She sat leaning against the vanity as he turned the hot water taps on, steam instantly filling the room.

He returned a few minutes later bearing a copy of Bon Iver's _For Emma, forever _ago album and a bottle of red wine with two glasses.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked her gently as he slid the CD into one of the many stereos throughout the house. She sighed, and shrugged as she began to undress.

"It was just a crappy day, that's all," she murmured in response. Divesting herself from the last of her clothing, she slid into the bath, which was now filled with beautifully perfumed water and soft white bubbles. The gentle sounds of Bon Iver filled the bathroom, accompanied with her soft relieved sigh as the hot water surrounded her slender form.

"What happened?" he asked, trying not to allow jealousy or anger invade his tones, but it was next to impossible. He sat down on the side of the bath, softly running his hand over her pale locks. She leaned her head into his caresses.

"He gave me a special assignment. I'll be designing a whole website by myself, and it's a big one," she explained, sighing as he gently brushed a runaway strand of hair from her forehead with his lips.

"You deserve it. You're an amazing artist – it could be that he recognised your talent and gave it to you because you're the most suitable person for it," he offered, but his voice weakened slightly at the end of his sentence when the hope began to die.

"Howl, he touched me today," she admitted finally. She felt him tense. "He put his hand on my waist for a minute, he didn't even look me in the eye, he was staring at my chest," she muttered quietly.

"A – And what did you do? What did he say? What did _you_ say?" he questioned shakily.

"I pulled away. He said he could give me another 'special assignment' after work – I said that I was busy with my husband and kid and I wanted to keep a strictly professional relationship in the work environment," she assured him quickly.

"And?"

"He doesn't seem to believe I'm married. It's like – he ignores it completely, I guess. He only sees what he wants to see, and a single girl is what he wants to see," she continued. "I felt like crap! I felt like I had betrayed you and I would never, _never_ do that, Howl, I love you too much to _ever_ hurt you like that, you know I do," she said decidedly. He nodded, but he looked rather distant. "Howl? A – Are you okay?" she asked softly.

"I'm fine," he answered quickly, snapping out of his sort of 'trance'.

"Howl. You know that it's only you – you're the only man I've ever been attracted to," she swore solemnly.

"So this would be different if he was a woman?" he asked snappishly.

"No! If he were a woman, if he were the most gorgeous woman on _earth_ I wouldn't want him, because I have you and no one can be better than you," she responded instantly, meeting his darkly flashing eyes with her pleading, pale ones. "I'm not attracted to this guy, I hate him and I wish he would just quit or disappear or something, it's _you_ that I love, it's _you_ that I care about," she continued softly.

"Well what if some perfect gorgeous woman came along who had the sense to be head over heels for you – _then_ what? How am I supposed to feel about that?" he questioned with agitation, tugging on a handful of his own hair, leaning forwards and supporting his head with his hands.

"You don't have to be jealous," she assured him gently, reaching forwards to hold him.

"But I _am_! I _am_ jealous, I'm jealous of everyone that you come into contact with because that's another few seconds I don't get to spend with you!" he objected suddenly. "We could be together for the rest of our lives but it's never going to be enough time, so how do you think I feel when some disgusting cretin gets to spend half the day with you, talking to you, touching you, propositioning you?" he questioned incredulously.

"Howl, I love _you_. Every second I spend apart from you I'm thinking of you, Vincent may see me at work, he may try to touch me or proposition me, but at the end of the day I come home to _you_," she responded passionately. "I come home to _you_, my husband, the man I love, we share a home, a bed, a life, _Eli_, I share _nothing_ with that man, not my love, not my soul, and certainly not my body, you don't have to be jealous or angry because I love _you_," she continued, placing a damp hand on his arm.

He let out a shuddering sigh, and slowly raised his head to meet her eyes.

"I know you love me," he said hoarsely. "I _know_ you do, but… it's hard. You're so ridiculously out of my league that sometimes I can't help but… get angry and jealous like this. You know what I'm like," he murmured ashamedly.

"I do, and I love that part of you, Howl, just like I love every other part of you," she assured him gently, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. He gave a small, weak smile.

"Do you want me to talk to this man?" he asked after a small silence. Toni looked thoughtful for a moment, before shaking her head.

"No, I think I can handle it. I'm not a child, and I need to be able to stand up for myself," she decided firmly.

"I know that you'd never cheat on me. You should know that," he murmured. Toni felt a small smile creep onto her lips.

"I'm glad to know that you know I'd never hurt you like that," she responded, pressing a soft kiss to his hand.

"I _do_ love you. Frighteningly so, you know," he added with slight anxiousness. Toni laughed in response, and nodded, resting her chin on his knee.

"Yup. Perfectly aware."

"I'm sorry, Antoinette," he sighed, softly brushing her soft, pale hair from her face with a loving caress.

"That's okay. I'll forgive you for getting upset if you put _The Clash_ on now, I'm done sulking," she grinned cheekily. Howl sniggered, leant forwards, pressed a kiss to his wife's lips, and then complied to her wishes.

Toni sighed as she sunk back into the hot water. Of course she and Howl occasionally had little upsets, but in the end, nothing could stop her from loving him.

~ * ~

"Miss Woodhouse, you must be so rich!" Haley exclaimed in shock as the BMW slid to a stop in the resident's only carpark.

"This is just my apartment building, Haley, I don't own the _entire_ place," she assured the wide-eyed girl, despite the fact that if she asked her father nicely, he would be perfectly able to buy the whole building without batting an eyelash.

"I know, but it's still so big and pretty! It must be _so_ expensive," she sighed dreamily. Emilia laughed and rolled her eyes as she climbed out of her car.

"Not really, it's quite reasonable, I'd say," she shrugged.

"But isn't your father a cripple?" Haley questioned dumbly. Emilia winced slightly with the term, but she knew that Haley would have heard about Henry Woodhouse. Everyone had.

"I live five minutes away from him and he has two full-time nurses. I'm there everyday for a few hours at least, too. I don't think he even knows that I'm not living there anymore," she explained simply, her tone signalling that it was an end to that line of discussion.

"Then why did you move here?"

"George moved to this building about a year ago when his company started to expand, it's closer to work," she answered.

"George is a _person_?" Haley exclaimed in shock as they walked into the lobby. Emilia laughed and nodded.

"He didn't think I could start my own fashion label, so in spite, I named it after him. He's my best friend, we practically live together," she informed her with a grin. "I moved here because I needed my space to work, and I like being close to him, too. I'm hardly ever in my apartment, when I'm not in the office or at my Dad's place I'm hanging out with him in his," she explained.

"Is he rich too?"

"Incredibly. But he's not flashy about it – I have this other friend, Will, and he's got about the same amount of money as George, he's modest about it too but George is just so…" she trailed off thoughtfully. "He doesn't care about money at all. He could buy whatever he wanted but he just doesn't, he's not interested in it," she continued.

"I wish I were rich," Haley sighed sadly as they stepped into the elevator. Emilia laughed.

"It's not as exciting as you might think. You feel guilty all the time for having more than others," she informed her simply.

"So what's George like?" Haley asked curiously. Emilia smiled.

"He's wonderful. Funny, handsome, intelligent, charming, educated, he doesn't like to talk about himself much, but he's had a pretty cool life," she replied. "Not everything has been great. His Dad was Prince Charles' second cousin or something like that, but he walked out when George was about ten, before I was born, and he hasn't seen him since he was sixteen. His Mum has been married six times now, and she hardly ever talks to him," she began informatively. "He slipped off the rails a bit, he got caught up on that whole late-eighties, mid-nineties grunge stuff, he did some modelling and he was in this indie-rock band, but he's climbed Everest, he's travelled the world, he runs his own multi-million pound company all by himself, he's the coolest guy I know," she swore.

"He sounds perfect. How long have you known him?" she questioned dreamily.

"My whole life. We've never been parted longer than two or three months since I was born," she replied with a poorly disguised grin as the elevator doors slid open, and they stepped into the hall.

"How old is he?"

"He'll be thirty-three in a few months."

"_Wow_!" Haley exclaimed in shock, her hazel eyes widening with surprise. "Doesn't that bother you?" she questioned incredulously. Emilia frowned slightly, and shrugged.

"No. Why should it? He's always been there to look after me. I need someone steady like him in my life," she laughed, pulling out her keys, and opening her apartment.

She hid a grin as she heard Haley gasp behind her. The apartment was quite nice, she was very proud of it. It had five rooms, the office, the bathroom, kitchen/dining, the living and entertainment area and her bedroom, not to mention her very large walk-in wardrobe. It was decorated in a tasteful French provincial style, with light pastels walls, white floorboards, minimal amounts of furniture, but each piece was stunning in itself, and added gorgeous personality to the place. It could easily have looked like something out of a glossy magazine, but instead it really resembled a home, with all the nice little personal touches.

"Miss Woodhouse, your apartment is so nice!" Haley exclaimed in shock.

"You like it? I had fun decorating it," Emilia replied, tossing her bag, folder full of files and the seemingly endless amounts of dress and clothing bags filled with pieces from the new line. "Come on then, we'll have to go over to George's place, half of these things are for him," she announced, picking up several of the bags and swinging them over her shoulder.

"Really? Would he mind, do you think?" Haley asked dumbly. Emilia laughed.

"I doubt it. He's used to me constantly barging in on him by now," she assured her.

"I like your ceilings," Haley announced suddenly, as Emilia picked up the last of the bags that would go to George's apartment. Emilia glanced up.

They were normal, plain, and white.

"Uhh… thanks," she murmured, slightly perturbed, but doing a good show of hiding it. "Come on then. I'm sure George would love to meet you," she declared, moving the topic of discussion right along. Haley blinked her wide hazel eyes, and a dreamy smile suddenly came over her lips as she happily followed her new companion like a pet puppy.

Emilia pushed the door to George apartment open without knocking, and stepped in, immediately dumping the piles of clothing bags on his empty kitchen bench.

"George! Are you in here? I got you some clothes!" she called out loudly. She didn't glance back at Haley as she heard the door close, stepping further into the luxury apartment.

"I have enough clothes," came a morose, bored sort of call from somewhere deep within the lounge room. Emilia stepped over open files and reports, empty cans of soft-drink, half-read books and one random, solitary shoe.

"Why is your place so unclean today?" she questioned accusingly, taking in the appearance of the man sitting before her.

He was sitting deeply in a dark brown bean-bag, wearing his reading glasses as he was flicking through papers in a manila folder.

"My PA called in sick today – so I decided that instead of getting a temp I would just take whatever it is she does home today and do it myself," he murmured distractedly. "Didn't realise how much paperwork this company pulls in," he added with slight bitterness.

"We got the new line in today; I got a whole bunch of the samples in for you."

"You aren't going to try and dress Will, Howl and I alike again, are you?" he asked doubtfully, not even glancing up from his papers.

"I went out of my way to make sure that you won't be dressing the same, other than some plain shirts and a few pairs of trousers everything is different," she assured him.

"Hmm. I feel like Italian tonight. You call – I'm too busy," he murmured, flicking over another page.

"I brought someone for you to meet."

That captured George's attention immediately. His head shot straight up, his eyes questioningly met Emilia's. His lips down turned to a frown almost instantly.

"I bet I can guess who he is," he practically growled, with great bitterness. Emilia raised an eyebrow in surprise as he started to mutter about 'fops' and 'Franks'.

"It's not a boy – it's that girl I told you about from my office, Haley," she corrected him, glancing over her shoulder. Haley was awkwardly standing by the closed door, her ridiculously ugly and out-of-date clothing looking very out of place in George's luxury, highly stylish apartment. "It's alright, he won't bite you," she assured the girl, who gave a grateful smile, and stepped forwards.

George stood up (with slight difficulty and little grace, it _was_ a bean-bag, after all) and took the girl in as she approached. One brow raised slightly, and his eyes shone with surprise and slight disapproval, most likely of what she was wearing, but Haley was oblivious to it. Only Emilia noticed it, having spent her whole life picking up George's almost invisible micro-expressions.

"Hi. I'm George," he informed the girl politely, holding out his hand to shake hers. Haley stared dumbly at it for a moment, blinking her wide hazel eyes. George looked perturbed at her hesitation. "Emilia's right. I won't bite you," he assured her slowly. Haley seemed to jump, as if startled, and giggled.

Actually _giggled_.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I was a hundred miles away," she twittered quickly, shaking his hand eagerly. "Miss Woodhouse has told me so much about you!"

"'_Miss Woodhouse_'?" he questioned doubtfully, glancing over to Emilia as his hand was released. He gave a small flicker of a grin. "Hmm. Only horrible things, I trust?" he directed to Haley. Her eyes went as wide as saucers, and she quickly shook her head.

"Oh no! Not at all!" she assured him almost desperately.

"Uhh – that's okay, I was joking," he replied, seeing her anxiousness. Haley gave a relieved sigh.

"Oh. I get it now. But Miss Woodhouse would _never_ say anything mean about _anyone_! She's _so_ nice, she's been really friendly to me at work! And she let me have all of these clothes, too!" she added, eager to prattle on with her love of how great 'Miss Woodhouse' was.

"Uhh… really?" George muttered, taking in the girl's horrible outfit.

"Not the ones she's wearing," Emilia threw in quietly, so only George heard. He gave a relieved sort of sigh.

"Umm – sorry that I'm not in an 'entertaining of guests' sort of place tonight, I have a great deal of paperwork to get through," he apologised to Haley briefly. "Em. Could I see you for a minute?" he questioned, giving a slight glance over to his usual companion.

"Sure. I was just about to order some food," she replied with a shrug, walking over to the kitchen. George directed that Haley should sit down with a hospitable gesture towards the couch, before following Emilia into the kitchen.

"What exactly are you doing?" he hissed the moment that they were out of earshot. Emilia raised a brow in surprise.

"If you want us to go we'll just go back to my apartment and eat, I just thought I'd bring those clothes over and introduce you," she responded simply.

"I thought you weren't going to try and morph this girl," he reminded her with slight sternness. Emilia rolled her eyes and brushed him off with a shrug.

"I never said such a thing, and you've seen her now, you know how desperately she needs a change to her wardrobe and confidence," she pointed out.

"She fawns over you. You do _not_ want to get attached to someone that 'fawns' on a regular basis," he advised sternly.

"Jeez, George! I don't see the problem! She looks up to me a little, there's nothing wrong with that! I just gave her some of the samples so she doesn't wear _that_ outfit again," she retorted firmly, gesturing to the snow-vest, pyjama-shirt, ugly skirt and flare pants combination.

"You'll turn her into _you_, Emilia, and the world doesn't need another you. Just be careful," he said sharply, his tone laced with disapproval. "I don't mind you bringing her over here, but don't get me involved in whatever twisted game you're playing with this girl's life," he added finally, pulling off his 'Clark Kent' reading glasses and running a frustrated hand through his hair.

"I'm not getting you involved," she muttered with slight annoyance, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Well hopefully we can keep it that way," he sighed, turning over to the fridge and pulling it open, surveying its contents. "Go look after your friend – I'll call for dinner, I need a break from forms," he commanded with distraction. Emilia slipped out of the kitchen and back into the living room, where Haley sat on the couch, staring up at the ceiling with a perfectly ponderous expression.

"I'll just be a minute, Haley, I need to use the bathroom," she announced, ducking down the hall to one of the two bathrooms in George's large apartment.

The cold water was refreshing on her face, but it wasn't enough to wash away his words. It had become a sort of mantra for her, every time George set her down, to repeat to herself '_he's your friend, he doesn't do this to hurt you, just to help you'_, but those words were becoming more and more meaningless as she had to use them almost to excess.

She couldn't even remember a time when his words hadn't been so desperately important to her, every little compliment (they are very, _very_ rare) made her elated for days, but she had developed a tough skin to deflect his more common comments, but occasionally one or two of them cracked that skin.

She wiped her eyes hastily, her mascara having smudged with the cool, refreshing water and the slight tears forming. How was she _supposed_ to feel when her closest friend said that 'the world doesn't need another _you_'? Certainly not with happiness.

"You alright?" he asked, returning his usual charming mask as she slipped back into the living room. Haley sat in silence, her gaze not having shifted from the ceiling. She didn't even seem to notice George, sitting once more in his bean-bag with a report held in his hand.

"Fine," she lied, with a small, faked smile. "So did you call for food?" she inquired, to which he nodded.

"About twenty minutes, they said. You two might as well lounge about here until they come," he shrugged.

"Hmm. Thanks for the invitation," she retorted, with a roll of her pale eyes, moving over to join him on the bean-bag. She sunk into it and was pressed against his chest, but she didn't mind, and she doubted he did either. He had a very clean, comforting sort of scent to him. She pulled her legs up against her chest and shifted her head slightly so it was resting against his shoulder.

"Comfortable?"

"Very," she assured him happily. They were clearly not going to talk about the little 'tiff' in the kitchen.

"How long have you two been together?" Haley asked suddenly.

"Since she was a foetus," George answered tonelessly, his eyes still trained on his report.

"_What_?" squealed Haley suddenly. George jumped slightly, and Emilia winced at how high-pitched her voice was.

"I've known her since she was a foetus, we've been friends ever since," he clarified for her in slow, balanced words.

"_Oh_! You're _friends_!" she cried in realisation. George rolled his eyes.

"No. We've been having hot, passionate sex ever since she was the size of my finger-nail and floating in her mother's amniotic fluid," he muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"_Really_?"

George raised his head, and blinked slowly in wonder.

"I was joking."

"Oh! Oh, I get it! That's _funny_!" she laughed suddenly. Emilia heard the slightest of groans come from the bottom of his throat.

"I can't tease her," he hissed quietly to his companion.

"Teasing is _definitely _off the menu," she advised sternly. He sighed, and then turned back to his paperwork.

"George is nice," Haley commented suddenly, a few hours later, when Emilia was dropping her off at her place. She raised a brow.

"You liked him?"

"Yeah, he was really sweet. At first he seemed a little… I don't know, _weird_, but then he was really nice to me," she explained with a shrug.

"He's a nice guy," Emilia concurred. Haley's observations were very close to the mark. George had been rather testy, due to his impending amounts of paperwork, but once he realised how he was supposed to act with Haley, he was uncommonly kind to her, in the manner that only George seemed to be able to achieve. She smiled slightly in the memory.

"Will he be at that party you were talking about?" she questioned hopefully.

"No, he's going to visit the American branch of his company, he always makes a lot of business trips," she replied. "But there's this guy that I want you to meet. His name is Elton Phillips, he's really nice, I think you'd get along well," she assured her. Haley bit her lip slightly.

"Really? You think so? I don't know, I kind of like someone else," she answered timidly.

"Oh yeah, what was his name again? Bono?"

"Bobby. Bobby Martin. We met on the bus - he works in IT," she informed her companion, blushing slightly as she thought on him.

Emilia's heart sunk slightly in disappointment. It might have been a bit of a generalisation, but every man she had ever met that was in IT seemed to be _very_ IT orientated, they didn't have time to consider other people. Haley was extremely high-maintenance; she needed a guy like Elton who had plenty of time on his hands to look after her.

"Oh. Well, that sounds… nice," she responded hesitatingly, inwardly wincing at herself. She didn't want to influence Haley's decision, she wanted to make sure that she was happy, but how could she hide her true feelings from showing? She just hoped that Haley didn't catch on to the slight lilt in her voice; she wanted the girl to be free to make her own choices.

It was hardly her fault if she just preferred the choice of Elton Phillips over this 'Bobby'.

"So?" was her immediate question when she bounded back into George's flat after dropping off Haley. He hadn't moved from his spot in the lounge room, but gratefully accepted the extra-large fruit smoothie she had picked up on the way home for him.

"So. Why did you get _Berry Bonanza_? I prefer _Mango Magic_," he commented with a slight frown, as he opened the top of the smoothie to check its contents.

"Because. Now tell me what you thought of Haley!" she demanded, dragging another bean-bag up to sit beside his. He sipped his smoothie is silence for a moment.

"She's not clever," he said finally. Emilia rolled her eyes and snorted.

"Intelligence is like beauty – you're born either with or without it, you can do a bit to help it along, but in the end it's a very cruel world," she retorted. "She can't help being a bit dumb, don't judge her for it. But she _is_ pretty," she continued, growing excited due to the excess of sugar and the hope that George would see her side of the issue, finally.

"I'm not _judging_ her, but yes, she was rather pretty. Beneath all those clothes that you really have to burn," he admitted after another brief pause. Emilia gave a cheer.

"I _knew_ it! She needs desperate help, and I'm perfectly willing to help her. You can't deny that she's a bit of a tragedy," she pointed out. George shrugged.

"She's crazy. Absolutely bonkers - but she was sweet. I didn't like that she fawns over you, but occasionally things like that can't be helped," he sighed.

"I'll just give her some fashion advice and maybe try to educate her a little, you know, throw a few books in her pathway," she said thoughtfully, before taking a sip of her own smoothie.

"Don't you mean _men_?" he asked doubtfully. She rolled her pale eyes.

"I have an idea of a guy that would suit her, but she said she already likes someone else. I don't know, I think I'll just introduce them, and see what happens," she decided. George looked rather concerned. "It won't be anything serious!" she assured him laughingly. "If she doesn't like this 'Bobby Martin' that she mentioned, she'll have a second choice. I'm not going to push her either way," she swore.

"Bobby Martin?" George exclaimed, his brows rising. "Robert Martin? Tall, blonde hair, glasses?" he questioned. Emilia shrugged.

"I don't know, I've never met him before. Do you think you know him?" she asked curiously.

"There's a Robert Martin who goes by 'Bobby' in my IT department. He's a mate of mine," he informed her with no little surprise in his tone. "He mentioned something about a girl not long ago – are you _sure_ that she said 'Bobby Martin'?" he asked insistently.

"Yeah, she told me half an hour ago," Emilia responded slowly. "Well? Does he suit her?" she questioned immediately. George shrugged.

"He's very introverted. He doesn't say that much, but when he does, you know he's serious about it," he replied simply. "So if he said that he likes this girl, then it means he _really_ likes this girl. I don't know – you shouldn't get too into this," he advised sternly.

"She's mentioned him once or twice, but she doesn't seem to be _really_ attached to him, and I just want them to meet, nothing serious," she objected. George shook his head.

"Steer clear of this one, kid. I think Bobby really likes her – you could end up really hurting him," he pointed out. Emilia frowned with annoyance. He barely knew Haley, how could he tell what _she_ needed? She needed a guy that could look past World of Warcraft and HTML codes to give the girl the attention that she was crying out for!

"You can't stop me introducing them. If they don't hit it off, then there's no loss. If she prefers him to this 'Bobby' then it's a good turn for her," she retorted. George rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. Just don't break any hearts," he finished with a slight frown. Emilia waited for him to say something else – but there was nothing. He simply sipped his smoothie and read through his paperwork. He was giving her the cold shoulder.

"I'm going to bed. I'll see you tomorrow," she sighed finally, rising to her feet. George muttered something of the like, but didn't look up as she walked out of his apartment.

She had to admit, she was pretty annoyed at him. She couldn't help but think of fluffy, perfect scenarios where Haley and Elton got along so well together that they eloped before the night had ended, and George was left sulking, having been proved wrong.

She laughed to herself as she cut short one particular little daydream about Haley's father turning out to be a King and she and Elton being crowned Prince and Princess.

"Well, stranger things have happened," she muttered to herself, setting down her hairbrush on her dresser table. She had a small smile on her lips as she slid into her grand King-size bed.

If Elton and Haley fell in love, it would certainly prove George wrong.

**A/N: I'm so sleepy! I worked a double shift today and yesterday too, not to mention that I'm starting jogging again in the mornings. I **_**really**_** need to buy comfortable shoes for work! Bahh! This will be my reminder, as I will check this when I next update to see if I promised anything I haven't put in yet. So bear with me for one minute:**

**EVELYN-ARALUEN, BUY SOME DAMN SHOES!!!**

**There, hopefully I will take note in three days when I next update. :D **

**I love you all! ^__^**


	5. Of screw ups and sorrys

"_Loving is fine if it's not in your mind, _

_But I've fucked it up now, too many times,_

_Loving is good if it's not understood –_

_But I'm the professor and I feel that I should know,_

_What makes her come, what makes her stay?_

_What makes the animal run, run away?_

_And what makes him tick, apart from his prick?_

_And the lonelier side of the jealousy stick?"_

-Damien Rice, 'The Professor'

Vincent Lothian was a clever man, but not a sharp man. He _dressed_ sharply, in nice suits with ties that brought out the dark green hue of his eyes, despite the fact that half his staff turned up to work in pyjamas everyday. He _acted_ sharp, he had perfected the art of narrowing his eyes accusingly at the perfect moment over the years, but he had a tendency to overlook things.

Antoinette Llewellyn was absolutely, completely and totally stunning. About average height but also slender, with porcelain skin, intense pale blue eyes and teased white blonde hair that brushed just past her shoulders. She always dressed nicely, she had a beautiful muted French accent and a spine-tingling voice, she produced fantastic work, and at not even twenty-three years of age yet she was quite a catch.

He _knew_ that she was married, but that's where his bluntness came in. He really didn't give a damn.

"Good morning, Antoinette," he greeted politely, drinking in her form with his dark, eager eyes. Today she wore a pair of waist-high blue denim pants, black lace-up heels and a baggy striped shirt that had been tucked into her pants to compliment her waist and the fashion of the times. "You look lovely today," he complimented, finally raising his eyes to meet hers. She looked somewhat uncomfortable, but it was lost on him.

"Good morning, Mister Lothian," she greeted crisply. He laughed as she sat down behind the computer in her tiny little cubicle, littered with half-read magazines, empty cups of coffee, and pictures of her standing next to a man and some girl that was probably her sister.

"You don't have to call me 'Mister Lothian', Antoinette, I told you, it's just Vincent," he reminded her with a dashing grin as she turned on her computer.

"I would prefer we use formal names in the work environment, Mister Lothian," she replied

"And would you have me call you _Miss Llewellyn_?" he asked teasingly, leaning on the edge of her edge, raising a brow with obvious intent.

"No. _Mrs_ Llewellyn," she corrected sharply. Vincent gave another light chuckle.

"That's a nice shirt, I don't think I've seen it before," he commented.

"I borrowed it off my husband. My _daughter_ and I are always borrowing his clothes," she answered firmly. Vincent brushed off her comment. In his mind, the husband and the kid just didn't come into the scene. He had fooled around with married women before in his twenty-nine years of existence, a great many of them with several children of their own.

"How are you going with that website?" he asked casually.

"Fine. I'm about to work on it now," she replied shortly, picking up her ipod, and plugging the headphones into her ears with a little more force than necessary.

"I guess I'll let you get to your work," he said finally, standing up properly and straightening his coat sharply. "I'll see you at lunch then. Maybe we can duck off and get a coffee," he added, with a charming grin.

"My husband and daughter are meeting me for lunch today. It's a pupil free day at school and we were going to do a bit of shopping," she informed him, not moving her eyes from her screen. Vincent hid back a groan of annoyance. _Why_ was this woman constantly mentioning her husband? Didn't she realise that he didn't give a damn about him?

"I'd like to meet this boy of yours. And the kid, too," he replied suddenly. Antoinette shifted slightly, as if perturbed by this idea.

"Fine. Sure. Whatever," she muttered, turning back to her computer with a slight frown playing on her beautiful lips. Vincent grinned as he walked away.

Two weeks, tops, and the girl would be his.

~ * ~

"So how was the rehearsal?" Howl asked his adopted child curiously as she jumped into the passenger seat of his car.

"Good. I think the director is starting to notice me, I might just get out of the chorus by the end of this year," she said excitedly, her dark eyes shining eagerly. "So are we still having lunch with Toni? My afternoon lecture was cancelled today, so I'm free," she added as the car rumbled into ignition.

"Yep. We were also going to duck off to do a bit of shopping, I still haven't got much of an idea about her birthday present," he replied with a slight frown.

"I told you, she would _love_ that new graphics tablet," Eli insisted. Howl sighed.

"I know. But that's what _you_ wanted to get for her, I need to think of something myself, cariad," he replied simply.

"Sing her a song. She loves to hear you sing," she reminded him. He chuckled.

"No, _you_ love to hear me sing, you can't use Antoinette as an excuse for that," he retorted, his amber eyes twinkling merrily.

"Not my fault you have a fantastic voice," she replied with a poorly hidden grin. "And I don't mind if you get her the graphics tablet, I'll just get her something else," she added curiously.

"No, love, I think I need to get her something that came from my own imagination," he laughed.

"You always get her really good gifts, why are you freaking out about this one?" she asked curiously, tilting her head slightly as she took in her adopted father with a raised brow. He sighed thoughtfully.

"It was always really difficult for me to pick those gifts that I got her before. It took months of thought, I just haven't been very pulled together recently, I've only got two more weeks to think of something perfect," he replied simply.

"What about a puppy?"

"Romulus would eat it."

Eli couldn't help but laugh at his seriousness.

"I'm sure you'll think of something perfect, just browse the net for some ideas, it'll all be fine," she assured him firmly. He gave a tiny grin.

"I just hope so," he murmured, turning into the lane that led to the block of apartments where the _Metamorphmagus _office was located. "Come on then, the sooner we get Antoinette and have something to eat the sooner I can look for some ideas," he instructed, pulling the car to a halt.

Eli bounced ideas off him with great vigour as they rode the elevator up to the 13th floor of the building, but Howl only rejected each one with equal amusement.

"Face it, Eli, you have to let _me_ pick it," he said firmly after her suggestion of a giant lava lamp that took up a whole room.

"Ooh, are you talking about my birthday present?" an excited voice came from the familiar cubicle of Antoinette Llewellyn. Her blonde hair bobbed up from behind the cheap plywood walls, eyes twinkling eagerly.

"Nope. You're having a birthday? Wow, I almost forgot," Howl replied thoughtfully, stepping into the cubicle and pressing a rather insistent kiss upon his beloved's lips. She responded with vigour.

"Ew. Nada, Toni, you can't just kiss in front of me! You _really_ have to stop this 'love' and 'affection' thing!" Eli exclaimed in horror. Howl and Toni both smirked and sniggered into each other's mouths.

"Ready to go?" he questioned, ignoring Eli's complaints.

"Yep, I just need to grab my bag," she replied, ducking back into the cubicle. As she moved, a man with gelled brown hair and dark, intense eyes came into view, dressed in a sharp suit that had been immaculately cleaned and pressed, compared to Howl's dark jeans and navy V-neck jumper partnered with a pair of converse sneakers. He was staring rather obviously at Toni with his intense gaze. Howl instinctively placed a possessive hand on the side of her hip.

Eli glanced between those assembled, and other to the unfamiliar man leaning by the door that used to be Deborah's, Toni's old boss.

"Who is he?" she questioned with a slight frown, noticing the tension hanging in the air.

"No one. Just my new boss," Toni replied simply, not even glancing over at him.

"He's looking at you," she pointed out, just as the man started to move towards them. Eli felt a tingle run down her spine – she didn't like him almost immediately.

"Antoinette, not going to introduce me?" he asked lightly, but his voice held a certain level of accusation in it that was rather unnerving. Toni winced slightly when she heard his voice, but reluctantly turned to face him.

"Mister Lothian, this is my husband, Howl, and our daughter, Eli," she introduced simply. The man looked at Howl first, and a slight frown rose to his lips. He had obviously been expecting a man younger than himself, but Howl Llewellyn had at _least_ good three years of age, and three inches of height on him. He then moved his gaze over to Eli, taking in her features, his frown growing slightly.

"Surely she can't be yours. She must be sixteen years old!" he exclaimed in surprise. "Oh, I see, she's your's, from another marriage?" he questioned Howl accusingly.

"I'm adopted," Eli practically growled, glaring at the man who seemed to be pretending she wasn't even there. He raised a brow in slight surprise, and slowly looked her up and down. He took in her form fitting white capped sleave shirt, waist high black trousers with suspenders, cuffed at the end over her 1920s style lace ups, and her long dark hair pulled into a ponytail at the base of her neck. She had a cute little navy blazer tossed over one shoulder, and an accusing glimmer in her dark eyes.

"Adopted, hmm? Shooting blanks, Harold?" he asked teasingly, glancing over to his opposition, who was practically bristling in annoyance.

"Not at all. And my name is _Howl_," he snapped. "But I hardly feel the reasons for my _wife_ and I adopting Eli is of any concern to you," he added coolly.

"And how old would you be?" Vincent asked curiously, brushing off his response, pulling on a charming smile as he turned to the daughter. Eli's frown grew.

"I turned nineteen in March," she answered coolly. He raised his brow slightly.

"Nineteen, eh? Have you started University yet?" he asked with perfect cheer, placing his hands casually in his pockets.

"I'm in my final year of a bachelor of arts," was her clipped response.

"What are you majoring in?"

"I'm doing a duo major. English Literature and Performance Music," she answered, stepping slightly closer towards Howl.

"Music, huh? I heard Antoinette mention something about her husband's profession. Get that from your Daddy?" he laughed, glancing over at Howl. "You certainly didn't get your accent from him. What part of Australia are you from?" he questioned politely.

"Eastern Coast. Not far from Sydney," was her short response. "We should probably go, I'm kind of hungry," she announced suddenly, glancing over to her parents, who nodded in the affirmative.

"I'll let you go then. It was good to meet you, Eli," he replied with a bit of a smirk, looking her up and down once more. "You too, Harry. I'll see you in two hours, Antoinette," he said finally, with one brief nod, before the trio left, well aware that his eyes were trained on them as they headed to the elevator.

Howl said nothing as the doors gave a short '_ching_' upon closing.

"That man is a _pig_," Eli practically spat the moment that they were out of earshot. Antoinette sighed slightly, and ran a hand through her pale hair.

"Sweetie, it's fine," she murmured quietly. "Howl? A – Are you alright, babe?" she asked softly, turning to her husband.

"Fine," he answered shortly as the elevator doors slid open. "Come on then, I'm hungry. Let's find someplace to eat," he declared, stepping out into the lobby almost immediately. Toni bit her lip anxiously, but nodded, and followed in silence. She gripped Eli's hand tightly in hers.

"He's going to be fine, don't worry. He's just a bit upset," she assured her comfortingly. Eli glanced back at her adopted father with concern.

"He's a bad man. I don't like you working with him," she confessed honestly. Toni nodded.

"I know, babe. I'm looking for another job, but I don't want to leave just because he intimidates me. I love my job, and some jackass isn't going to stop me from doing my best there," she replied quietly.

Eli didn't say much through lunch, and as they wandered through the busy outer-London streets, passing shop windows as they pretended they were cheerful.

"You don't always have to be really strong, you know," she reminded her adopted mother as they were walking back to the building. Howl was trailing a little behind, deep in thought. "It's okay to want to run. You shouldn't put yourself in a horrible position like that," she murmured. Toni sighed, and nodded.

"I know. I'm not going to be stupid about this, babe. When I get worried, I'll take action. I'm not worried," she assured Eli firmly, who nodded in understanding. Toni pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, before glancing over to her husband. Eli took the initiative and stepped back for a moment.

"You know what, I think I'm going to give Will a call. I'll see you in a minute, Nada," she announced, turning away and pulling out her phone.

"Come on. You can walk me to my cubicle," Toni declared, taking her husband's hand in hers, and leading him into the building. She entwined their fingers together and searched for his eyes, but he didn't raise his head. All too soon the elevator stopped on the floor of her office, and she led him out. "Going to kiss me goodbye then?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light and cheerful. Vincent was watching from the other end of the room. Taking the initiative, Toni stepped forwards and pressed her lips firmly against her husbands.

He pulled away abruptly.

"I'm not going to be played with, Antoinette," he practically snapped, keeping his voice low. "I'm not some toy that you can _use_," he growled.

"Howl, I have no feelings other than hatred for that guy," she murmured honestly, her eyes wide and pleading. "I'm not inviting his actions. I _wish_ – God, Howl, you know that I don't want to hurt you," she continued anxiously. Howl's eyes flashed in annoyance.

He pulled her in for a deep, needy kiss. Her arms wound around his neck, and his moved to her waist. One he shifted to the small of her back, whilst the over sneaked lower, sliding into the back pocket of her jeans. They pulled away breathlessly, aware that there were others in the room with them.

"I'm going. I'll see you tonight," he finally managed to mutter.

"I love you."

"We'll need to talk," was his only response, before he stepped back into the elevator.

Toni turned back to walk with as much dignity as she could to her cubicle. Vincent's eyes flashed with some unfamiliar emotion. It was jealousy, it was like… amusement. He smirked as she wiped her lipstick.

"Cute family," he commented simply, strolling over to her cubicle.

"I'm fond of them," she replied shortly, shifting her mouse to wake up her computer's screen saver.

"Really? I wouldn't have been able to tell," he said thoughtfully. She said nothing as he grinned, and turned away.

Her fingers paused over the mouse. But she didn't turn.

The first trick of battle was to never let the enemy know that they've thrown a fatal blow.

~ * ~

He heard her usual cry of '_I'm home!_' ringing around the walls of the study, but he didn't get up to greet her in the hall as he usually did when she came home late. He turned the page of his book in silence, not even looking up as he heard the door open.

"Eli's pretty quiet."

"She's gone over to Emilia's for a little while. She'll be back in an hour or so."

"She ate?"

"There's some leftovers from dinner in the fridge, if you're hungry," was his simple response.

"No, I… I'm fine," she said quietly, walking around the couch to sit down beside him. She tucked her legs beneath herself and rested her head on his shoulder.

He hated that she was beautiful. He hated that she was gorgeous and stunning and that with her wide, impossibly pale eyes she looked like a perfectly vulnerable piece of prey to be hunted by those who desired her. He hated that she had a gorgeous body, that she had perfect curves in all the right places, that despite her slender form she had womanly features. He hated her perfect little nose and her perfectly sculpted cheek and jaw bones. He hated her beautiful white blonde hair that was just a little bit messy with the stress of the day but looked fantastic anyway. He hated her perfect skin and her perfect face and her perfect body. He wished that she was ugly and _his_.

But she wasn't. She wasn't ugly and even if she were, she had a heart of gold that would outshine any imperfections.

"Howl, do – do you still want to talk?" she asked timidly.

"No."

"Well… Well, I think we should," she murmured, attempting to meet his eyes. "I think we should talk about today. I know that –"

"No. You don't," he snapped angrily. "He was looking at you like you were a piece of fucking meat, and he was looking at Eli like she were no better," he growled.

"Howl, he's too old for her, he knows that," she insisted. "He'd never –"

"It's the same damn age difference, Antoinette!" he cried furiously. "It's the same age difference as you and I. We'd been sleeping together for ages when you were Eli's age, we were _living together_ when you were a year younger than she is – so how is this different?" he questioned, throwing his book down on the ground and practically jumping off the couch.

"B – Because we love each other, he doesn't love Eli, he's just a cretin, and he's not going to get anywhere with Eli _or_ me!" she argued, growing upset. "I don't love him. I love _you_," she assured him.

"_Why_? Why do you love _me_ when he's there? When he's not a decade older than you, when he doesn't have a mental illness, when he's not shouting at you because he's not good enough for you?" he cried with great emotion, and wide, passionate eyes that were searching hers.

"Howl, I love you. I don't know how many times I can say it," she murmured simply, rising off the couch. "I have hundreds of reasons why I do. But – you never listen to them. I want to support you, I want to be here for you, but I can't do this on my own," she practically whispered. "You _never_ believe me," she continued, her voice wavering with emotion, her throat almost choked as she tried to force down tears. "And I don't know if there's any other way that I can prove how I feel to you. I guess – because I've told you so many times you've become deaf to it. But that doesn't mean that the message has changed," she added softly, a tear finally escaping out of the side of one of her pleading pale eyes.

"Antoinette…" he sighed softly, making a move to step forwards, but she shook her head.

"N – No, Howl, please don't touch me," she begged. "Don't you think that I have my doubts too? Don't you think that I sit up at night wondering why _you_ could condescend to love someone like _me_? I ask myself these questions but I never get any of the reassurances that I give to you, and it's _not fair_!" she cried suddenly. "It's not fair that you can have your doubts but I can't! It's not fair that no matter what I do, you don't think I care about you! It's not fair that you have a _reason_ and a _cause_ to be unhappy sometimes when I don't!" she continued emotionally.

"Love, I – I know how you feel. But sometimes… sometimes I –"

"If you did then we wouldn't be having this conversation!" she interjected. "When you're miserable you have an excuse, you _know_ that it's not your fault and that you didn't cause it!" she cried between sobs as she raised her hand to cover her mouth. "But I don't have that! I have people who I no love me and a life that I should be happy about, just like you, a – and I'm scared, Howl," she practically whispered. "I'm scared that it's me – I'm scared that if I – if I – I might – I might hurt you j – just as much as you hurt me every time you tried to kill yourself," she choked out finally.

Howl stood with his mouth open, not sure of what to say. He just didn't _know_. He watched his wife fall to her knees before him.

"You n – you never just _say_ how you feel, why you love me, and – and I wish that you just _would_," she stammered brokenly. "I wish that you would just say it sometimes, not just to keep me happy but because you want to. So I don't hurt you and Eli by doing something I shouldn't," she continued quietly.

So… his wife, his precious, strong wife who had been his crutch for over six years, who had handled the grief of losing a child once and a lover so many times all by herself was hurting so badly that she had thought about ending her life. He swallowed. He wasn't very good at being a pillar or strength for others. He didn't know where to start – he had never needed to be the one that comforted _her_. The closest thing he had ever done was put on her favourite _Clash _CD and run her a hot bath, or do the dishes and give her some space, he just didn't _know_.

"What do I do?" he asked finally, kneeling down helplessly. "I – I don't know what to – I mean, I'm not sure –" he stammered. She gave a bitter little sob that might have been an attempt at laughter before looking up at him sadly.

"You really don't know, do you," she murmured softly, shaking her head. She took a deep breath. "H – Howl, maybe it's best that I don't stay here tonight," she announced after a long period of silence had enveloped them. Howl blinked in surprise.

"What?" he questioned in complete and total shock. "What are you saying? A – Antoinette? What are you talking about? You can't just – you can't – I _need_ you!" he objected, gripping her arms tightly as if he could stop her from leaving with pure force.

"But when _I _need _you_ it never seems to matter!" she cried finally, pulling her arms away. "I just need space. I just – just space, Howl. I'll stay with a friend," she decided, rising to her feet. Howl jumped up almost immediately, following her with haste as she rushed through the house.

"No! _NO_, you can't leave!" he cried in the manner of a wounded animal, his voice raw and pleading. "You can't go, Antoinette, you're hurting and you need me, I know that I never seem to – but I – I can't –" he continued, his words broken and patched together as he desperately tried to make her see reason.

She pulled open the door to their bedroom and slammed it shut behind her. He wrenched it open and stepped into the room only a second after she had closed it, but she was already headed for their wardrobe.

"Antoinette, _please_, don't leave me," he begged, his voice indicating that he was on the brink of tears. She pulled out a suitcase from the top of the cupboard, and threw it open. Clothes were instantly thrown in, enough changes to last her a week, easily. "You can't go. You can't leave me, you can't leave Eli. She needs you, she needs you just as much as I need you," he pleaded, trying to stop her packing with shaking hands and wide, fearful eyes.

"I'll be staying with a friend. Don't try to find me, I need a little time," she said shortly, not stopping her task, tossing in a few pairs of shoes.

"Which friend?" he questioned immediately. "_Which friend_, Antoinette?" he cried, reaching for her shoulder and practically shaking her. His hands gripped her tightly, and his eyes searched for the answers in hers. "Don't go to her. Don't go back to her – do _not_ leave me like this, not for _her_!" he pleaded desperately. She pulled herself out of his grip, and picked up her suitcase, tossing it on the bed before she stepped into the bathroom, and started pulling things out of the cabinet.

"Don't! Just _stop_!" she practically wailed as Howl tried to push the cupboard doors shut so she couldn't take her possessions out of it. He paused in his actions, clumsily wiping fat tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I'm sorry. I'll be a better husband, I swear, I will, I don't care about this guy at the office, I care about _you_," he wept. Toni didn't look at him as she walked back into the bedroom and dumped the contents of her hands in the suitcase. She threw her briefcase and purse in as well, and started to zip it shut. "I love you. Eli loves you. If not for _me_, stay for Eli – she needs you just as much as I do," he begged.

"I won't be forever. I just need a little time, I'll probably be back tomorrow," she said quietly, pulling her suitcase off the bed. "Don't kill yourself and take care of Eli. You don't have to explain everything. Just stick around for her," she requested softly, walking towards the doorway of their bedroom. Howl was kneeling on the floor in a fit of tears, banging his head against the metal side of the bed with great force. "Howl – don't you _dare_ be selfish – I'm not leaving Eli and I'm not leaving you – so don't you dare even _think_ about leaving us," she demanded firmly.

And then she was gone.

Howl sobbed like a child on the floor of his bedroom, his sobs loud and uncontrollable. He didn't even want to try and cut himself to relieve the emotional torment he was going through, he wanted to sting and he wanted it to hurt, he wanted it to hurt so much that he would just die.

"Nada? Toni?" he heard a voice from downstairs call about an hour later. He said nothing. He was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, staring at empty space before him with his knees tucked beneath his chin. He was still crying, but now in silence. He didn't even know if he could move. "Nada? W – Where's Toni?" Eli asked softly when she stepped into the room. He said nothing. "Nada? Please – please say something. Are you okay?" she questioned, kneeling beside him.

"She's gone," he managed to croak out.

"When will she be coming back?" was her wavering response.

"She didn't say. She said she needed time. Space," he practically whispered. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind he recalled something about children blaming parental separation on themselves. "It was my fault. I never _listened_," he murmured, the words hanging lifelessly in the space before him.

"_Will_ she come back?" Eli asked slowly, after a long pause. He felt himself shrug.

"She said so. She loves you too much to leave you," he murmured. "D – Did she ever talk to you about… me? About how she was feeling lately?" he questioned almost breathlessly, looking up at her with wide, pleading eyes. She was crying, and shook her head.

"She cries sometimes. She doesn't think I know but I hear her, and her face goes all red," she replied, her bottom lip quivering slightly. "Nada, I don't want her to leave."

"Neither did I, cariad," he whispered, pulling her beside him. She rested her head on his shoulder and he felt her tears form a pool of moisture on his jumper, but he didn't care. He was crying too much to care about the state of his clothing.

**A/N: And yes, the first round of angst. There will be more in the next chapter, but none til **_**aaaaaaaaaages**_** after that (hopefully). Sorry about that! But I can assure you, there won't be as angst in this story as there was in LAOL. Oh, and I'm going to move this to the 'Emma' category soon, just thought I'd tell you all :D**

**^__^**


	6. Of Peacekeepers and Namesakes

"_I think I made it a game to play your game,_

_And let myself cry, I buried myself alive on the inside_

_So I could shut you out, make you go away for a long time,_

_I guess it's okay I puked the day away, _

_I guess it's better you trapped yourself in your own way,_

_And if you want me back, you're gonna have to ask,"_

-The Used, 'Buried myself alive'

George lowered the phone slowly, not even hearing the little _click_ as it returned to the receiver. He just couldn't believe it.

He rose unsteadily and walked straight out of his apartment, where he had been packing for his business trip to America, down the hall, and stepped into Emilia's flat without knocking.

"I could have been naked, you know," she pointed out, glancing up as he entered whilst she poured herself a glass of juice.

"Toni left Howl last night. She packed up a bag and just left."

Her eyes widened instantly in shock, and she stepped back from the kitchen counter.

"_What_? Toni loves Howl – she'd never just walk out on him!" she exclaimed in disbelief.

"I know, but she just left. He doesn't know when she's coming back, she said she needed 'time' and 'space'," he replied, running a hand through his dark hair clumsily. "Howl's going to really do himself in this time, Toni is _everything_ to him," he muttered quietly.

"No. He cares about Eli too much to leave her alone," she rationalised hastily. George shook his head.

"Em, you don't understand. He _loves_ Eli, but he _lives_ for Toni. Without her he'll throw himself off a bridge or shoot himself in the head – he has absolutely no ability to look into the concept of getting over something in the future," he replied. "He'll fall apart," he sighed quietly.

"Well go talk to him! Go make him better!" she insisted firmly.

"I – I can't. My flight is due out this afternoon, Em, and he's not going to be ready to talk for another day or two," he reminded her. She looked thoughtful as she began to chew her lip.

"Then we find Antoinette. We just have to work out where she is and we'll tell her to come back," she rationalised, her tone revealing that she was growing excited. "That's what we'll do! We'll call around and try to find her, and then we'll let her know how stupid she's being by leaving Howl when she _obviously_ loves him!" she cried eagerly.

"Em, we can't just mess with people's lives, there might be a good reason why she –"

"Of _course_ there's a good reason, but she loves Howl, and she loves Eli," she threw back emphatically, her pale eyes flashing with resolve. "George, we can't sit back and do nothing. We only have a few hours before you need to get to the airport, so I say we make some calls and figure out where she is," she declared, reaching for her phone.

"I'm going to regret this," George murmured.

"Shutup and call, we need to find out what's going on," she snapped. George sighed, and took a seat on one of the stools by the breakfast bench.

"Who could I possibly call?" he questioned dumbly, staring at his iphone incredulously.

"Anyone! Her Mum, her Dad, all her friends, everyone she works with, you know who she knows, it won't be that hard to find her!" she replied firmly, rolling her eyes at his passive response to what she viewed as such a travesty. George sighed.

"Fine. But don't get your hopes up, she probably doesn't want to be found," he reminded her, to which she rolled her eyes once more and picked up the phone.

"Alright, who else can we call?" Emilia asked tiredly about two hours later, setting down the phone after another unsuccessful call in a series of failed attempts to find Toni.

"No one. We've called everyone we can find, she just doesn't want to be found," George snapped, slipping his phone back into his jacket pocket. "I have to finish packing, I need to be at the airport soon. Just drop it, Emilia, we can't call anyone else," he added, rising to his feet.

"No! There has to be someone else!" she objected, practically leaping forwards and tacking a grip on his jacket sleave. She tugged him back towards her to meet his dark eyes with her pale ones. "What about Valerie?" she asked suddenly. George blinked in surprise.

"No. Howl hates Valerie, it would kill him if she went to her," he said blankly. "They probably haven't seen each other in five years anyway, I mean, they didn't part on the best of terms," he pointed out slowly.

"Valerie was completely in love with Toni, she'd take her back in a second and she'd never tell Howl, she's too faithful to Toni for that!" she cried hastily.

"She wouldn't."

"I think you're underestimating her, George. She's my cousin, I know her better than you do – I _know_ that she's been hurting," she practically pleaded. George sighed, and nodded.

"Let me call. If she's there, I think it's best –"

"_I _should call her!"

"You might think that you know her better than I, Emilia, but the reality is that you simply _don't_, she's told me things that I know she hasn't told you, and I think I'm in a slightly better position to understand what she's going through than you are," he snapped, taking his phone back out of his pocket. "I'm going to sit in the other room – don't try to eavesdrop," he advised shortly, before leaving her alone in the dining room.

Emilia resisted the urge to sneak up and hide behind the door and listen to his conversation, curious she was, but dishonest she was not.

George internally chastised himself for scolding her, but he didn't take back his words. He was tired and upset and angry, he had wanted to pack, spend a few hours hanging out with Emilia and take a nice peaceful drive up to the airport before he left for the stuffy fourteen hour flight. He didn't like sharing her with strange people over the telephone.

"Hello?" a vaguely familiar voice greeted when he had dialled. He heard a slight sound of scuffle as the answerer turned the phone over to check caller ID. "Why, George Knightley. I never thought I'd hear from _you_," the voice said coolly.

"Valerie. It's nice to hear your voice again," he said with as much cheer as he could muster. The woman gave a small scoff.

"Yeah right. I suppose you want to talk to Toni," she retorted with slight annoyance.

"If that were possible, yes, I would like that very much," was his thankful answer.

"I have absolutely no desire to let you do that, I'm afraid."

George nearly groaned. Valerie Kyle had always been a bit difficult, but particularly after Howl had entered the scene. She was Toni's former girlfriend through the two years she was present at Rosings Park College, and they had been expected to move in together and be perfectly happy for the rest of their lives. But Howl had ruined that little plan, and Valerie had a difficult time getting over that.

"Listen, I don't know what she's told you –"

"Nothing. She hasn't told me one damn thing, and I don't really care. She's _here,_ and that's all I want for now," Valerie snapped.

"She's got a kid, Val. She and Howl adopted a girl three years ago, just before they got married. Eli's probably freaking out right now, she's had a lot of misery in her life, don't take away her mother," he pleaded softly. "Howl said that they're going through a bit of a rough patch, but she still loves him and he still loves her, you can't stop them by screening her calls," he pointed out.

"Like I give a shit about Howell Llewellyn – he _acts_ like such a noble, great guy, but he stole my soul mate right from beneath my nose!" she cried angrily into the receiver. "I suppose he's fed you all that bullshit about not making a move on her until she had graduated, huh? I guess he doesn't think doing it on his desk during 'detention' counts then," she added curtly.

"They weren't together when Toni was in school, Val –"

"Ha! I guess they didn't tell you then," she muttered bitterly. "I have every good reason to think Howell Llewellyn is a shit excuse for a human being – not only was he sleeping with one of his students, he was sleeping with her when she was still going out with _me_!" she cried angrily.

It was the second time that day a phone conversation had completely floored George.

"A – Are you sure?" he questioned incredulously.

"Yes. They didn't let anyone know until after she had graduated, but _I_ knew!"

"Valerie, I'm sorry, but… but that must have been about six years ago now – she's got a husband and a kid and family that care for her, I know they must have hurt you, but you can't hide her away in the hope that you'll hurt Howl or make her fall in love with you again," he said quietly. Valerie gave a slight sniffle.

"Toni? There's someone that wants to talk to you," he heard her call after a brief pause.

"Thank you, Val," George murmured.

"I'm not doing this for _him_. He's still the bastard that slept with my girlfriend, I'm doing this because of the kid, alright?" she emphasised firmly. George felt himself smile.

"Thank you. I know Eli would thank you if she knew what you must have gone through six years ago," he replied softly.

"Whatever. Spit in Llewellyn's face for me," she requested coolly, before handing the phone over.

"So I'm assuming it's not Howl then," he heard a very familiar voice state calmly.

"No, love, it's George," he replied, making sure to keep his tone even and free from disapproval. "Are you alright? We're all pretty worried," he added, trying to sound cheerful.

"I'm fine. Kipping at Valerie's place, she was nice enough to let me in," she replied simply. "Howl doesn't know, I take it?"

"No. I don't intend on telling him just yet," he answered. He heard her give a sigh of relief.

"You must think I'm a horrible person," she murmured quietly.

"Not at all. I think you're a very strong person for surviving for so long, always being pulled together when Howl needed you the most," he assured her. "He told me what happened, and I know that he's sorry. I guess it was the final straw," he informed her thoughtfully.

"I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe – George, when I lost the baby five years ago it was after we had argued, the stress just… I _can't_ lose another baby because of some stupid fight," she sniffled quietly.

"You're pregnant?" he exclaimed softly.

"Yeah. Almost a month. I only found out the other day, I – I wanted to tell him last night, but he… he shut down. He was so angry about that _stupid_ guy at the office," she managed to choke out.

"Toni, you and Howl are going to be parents! You need to be with him at a time like this!" he responded firmly.

"I _can't_! I can't just walk back into that house and pretend everything is alright because I'm having a baby!" she threw back at him angrily. "I love Howl, I love him more than _anything_ on this fucking earth, but what do you think he's going to do when he finds out about this baby? He's going to run – just like he always does when he's scared or when things are tough, and if I'm going to be raising this baby alone, I'd rather do it on my own terms!" she argued passionately.

"It's _his_ baby, you can't take his child away from him, Toni, it's not _right_!" he objected.

"It's not right that after six years he still doesn't believe that I love him! It's not right that he blames _me_ for that jerk trying to hit on me at work, it's not right that I can't break down because I need to be strong for _him_!" she retorted angrily.

"Toni, y – you need to calm down, think of the baby," George urged her anxiously.

"I _am_. I'm thinking of my baby and what's best for it – and what's best for it is a mother that isn't one fucking inch away from slipping off the edge because she's not as strong as she needs to be!" she argued. He could hear her tears choking her voice as she spoke.

"You have family and friends who love you and who are going to stick by you through this, Toni," George murmured.

"I can't lose another baby, I can't go back to him and fight and argue and try to get him to see reason when he just won't!" she sobbed.

"You can't give up on him."

"Don't feed me that bullshit, George. I'm not 'giving up' on him, I love him – but until he believes that there's nothing I can do," she threw back.

"What, and leaving him is the way to prove that you love him?" he questioned incredulously.

"I'm not doing this to prove _anything_! I'm doing it because he's been expecting me to do it everyday for the past six years!" she cried angrily. "He's hurt me _dozens_ of times because he thinks that it'll make me hate him, it'll make me leave for my own sake, I _love_ him but he's too selfish to believe that! I would give _anything_ for him to be the one calling me right now, but if he wants me to 'give up' on him so badly then I damn well will!" she continued furiously. "If it were just me I would stay – but I am _not_ doing this to my child!" she finished.

"Toni, you need to calm down. I understand, love, I know that it must have been so hard," he murmured quietly. "Don't you think this baby deserves a mother _and_ a father? And what about its big sister? What do you think this is going to do to Eli?" he questioned softly.

"I'm not disappearing, and I won't leave Eli," she swore. "George, I – I don't even know what I can do. I'm so scared, I love him so God damn much, but I've had _two miscarriages_ in the last six years, both in the first six weeks. I owe it to those two babies that never got to take their first breath to do all I can for this one," she murmured almost pleadingly.

"Two? I thought you only had one!"

"_Howl_ thinks I've only had one," she admitted quietly.

"When did you lose the other one?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Is it –" he began slowly, before sighing. "Is it true? What Valerie said? Where you and Howl involved before you graduated?" he questioned warily. He was met with silence. "Toni, I spent an hour listening to him cry over the phone about what a horrible person he was, how he had driven you away and how he would do anything to get you back, I think… I think he's going to change. I think now that he knows how horrible it is to lose you, he's not going to let it happen again," he said slowly.

"I don't know if I can take that risk."

"I think you owe it to your baby to try and give it the best life possible."

He heard Toni emit a small sob.

"I love him so much, b – but how can he doubt me? After all these years? After all the love I've given him, after everything I've sacrificed, my family, my country, my _dreams_, how can he doubt my feelings?" she questioned incredulously.

"He's scared, Toni. But he's faced his biggest fear now, and… I think that maybe what you did was a good thing in the long run, it'll make him realise how much he needs you," he murmured softly.

"I _do_ want to go back to him, but I –"

"Then go back to him. Do what feels right, do what _you_ want to do, Lord knows you've been putting his needs first for the past six years, go back to him and let him know that you aren't going to be walked all over again, not with a baby on the way," he urged her.

"It's only been one day."

"He's suffered enough, and so have you."

"Umm… can you – can you talk to him?" she asked softly. "Please, just… tell him how I feel, he'll believe it if it comes from you. I know your flight is today but –"

"But my flight can wait. I still have a few hours; anyway, I'll go talk to him now. When I'm done I'll call again, and tell you how it went," he assured her.

"Thank you, George," she murmured very quietly.

"That's quite alright. Now you should go rest, arguing with me isn't going to help the baby," he pointed out, trying to sound as warm as he could.

"Okay. Please call me as soon as you've spoken to him," she requested.

"I will. I'll talk to you soon, love," he assured her, before they made their goodbyes, and hung up.

"So? Was she with _her_?" Emilia questioned the moment that he walked into the kitchen once more. She was sitting by the breakfast table, looking like she had spent a great deal of time trying to stop herself from eavesdropping on the conversation.

"Yes. I'm going to go swing by Howl's, I need to talk to him. Don't go anywhere, I should be back in time to get my things before the flight," he instructed, slipping out of the flat before Emilia had a chance to get another word in.

~ * ~

"Are you okay?" Darcy asked his girlfriend carefully for what felt like the five-hundredth time that day as they lay atop her bed, staring at the white-washed ceiling in almost silence. Eli rolled her eyes against his chest.

"I'm fine. You don't have to keep asking me," she murmured, fiddling with a loose thread on his grey cardigan.

"She loves you, you know. But she can't have had a wonderful time over the past five years," he pointed out. "But she'll come back. It's not even been a day yet, she'll probably turn up in a few hours full of smiles," he assured her.

"They were hiding it from me. There was something going on with the guy from work and they were hiding that from me, and now Toni's gone," she said, after a short, thoughtful silence. "I love them both so much. I thought that love was going to be enough to keep us all together," she muttered bitterly.

"Eli, you can't blame her," he insisted.

"I don't."

"And you can't blame Llewellyn."

"I don't."

"You can't blame yourself."

"I don't."

"Then _who_ are you blaming?" he asked finally. She shrugged.

"No one. I can't blame anyone because I just don't understand why she left," she confessed. "Nada won't talk to me about it. All he said is she needs 'space' and 'time', but he didn't tell me what happened, if they fought, what it was over, I can guess and assume but I… Will, I'm still so confused," she murmured. He sighed, and ran a comforting hand up and down her arm.

"It's alright, Elizabeth, you can be confused," he assured her. "Because she's going to come back with answers. Llewellyn is right – she probably _does_ just need some time, time heals a lot of wounds," he added softly.

"They just seemed so… perfect."

"It doesn't mean that they don't love each other, it just means that for a little while they need to be apart from each other," he replied carefully. "And it certainly doesn't mean that they don't love _you_. Because they do, Elizabeth, they love you so much, almost as much as I do," he added. She nodded against his chest, and took his hand in hers gently.

"If we have kids one day, promise we'll stay together for them?" she requested softly. He smiled, and nodded.

"Of course we'll have kids one day, but I'll never leave you, no matter what," he assured her. "And if, by some crazy chance we _do_ want to split up, we'll stay together for our children," he promised. "And besides, why would I want to leave and upset our children? If they look anything like _you _I'd never be able to deny them a single thing," he added with a quick grin. She gave a tiny smile, before they fell into silence once more.

"I think the hardest part is that I just _miss_ her. I know it's only been a few hours, really, but I really do miss her," she confessed finally. Darcy shifted so he could meet her eyes.

"It won't be long till she comes back," he reminded her. She smiled, and nodded in hope.

Down the hall, Howl lay in a similar position on his bed, only alone. He was staring at the ceiling in silence, hoping it would open up and swallow him up.

He was a mixture of emotions. Anger, frustration, incredible, aching sorrow, but also guilt. He had spent so much time counting every occasion where he had left Antoinette in the past, he stopped when he past a dozen. He felt like a complete and total hypocrite. She did nothing but give, give, give, and all he did was take, he was selfish and stupid and there were no excuses for his actions.

For the first time he _wanted_ to die, but knew that he wouldn't. He would keep on going.

Just like Antoinette, after every time he forced her into the same torment he was going through.

~ * ~

"Toni?" an eager squeal came the moment that George knocked on the door. It was pulled open to reveal Eli's hopeful face, which instantly turned to that of great disappointment. George tried not to laugh. "Oh. Hey. I guess you want to talk to Nada," she murmured.

"If that's alright," he replied. She gave a weak smile and nodded.

"Yep. Of course. I'll be in my room if you need me, Will is here too," she informed him, stepping aside so he could enter the threshold. "He's – not doing very well. I tried to talk to him this morning, but he just… I wish Toni were back," she sighed quietly.

"I'm sure she'll come back soon, squirt, don't you worry," he assured her gently, pulling her into a quick hug. "I'll try to say goodbye before I leave, my flight goes in a few hours," he added when they pulled away. She nodded, trying not to look morose. "It'll be okay, I swear," he added firmly. She gave another weak smile, and nodded, before slipping away to her bedroom in silence. George sighed, and made his way to the staircase.

"Please, Eli, I just need to be left alone for a little while," he heard Howl call from inside his bedroom when George had knocked. He pushed it open slowly, and stepped in. "Eli, I said – oh. It's you," he murmured in slight surprise, when he saw who was there.

He was sitting atop his bed with a pile of Toni's things strewn around him, probably for comfort. He had screwed up balls of paper littering the room, probably failed attempts at letters he had wanted to send to her. He looked a frightful mess, his clothes and hair rumpled, stubble growing over his cheeks and jaw, dark purple bags hanging beneath his lifeless eyes.

"I've got nothing new to report. Please, George, just leave me alone," he begged quietly, leaning against the headboard with his knees pulled up to rest beneath his chin.

"I've spoken to Toni."

Howl's eyes widened in shock.

"When? How is she? _Where_ is she? Is she coming back? Does she hate me?" he questioned quickly. George sighed slowly, and ran a hand through his dark hair. He sat down on the edge of the bed.

"How long have you and Toni been involved, exactly?" he questioned finally. Howl blinked in surprise.

"About five and a half years, you _know_ that. Just tell me where she is," he demanded hastily.

"Don't get angry – but she's with Valerie," he informed him finally. Howl clenched his fist tightly, and nodded.

"I thought so," he murmured.

"Then why didn't you call?" George questioned incredulously. Howl shrugged.

"I can't talk to Valerie. I just _can't_, and – and I doubt Antoinette wants to talk to me, anyway," he replied bitterly.

"Valerie seems to think that you and Toni were involved before she graduated. Whilst she was still in school, whilst she was still going out with her," he said finally. Howl sighed, and buried his hands in his hair.

"What do you want me to tell you? That she's wrong, that we didn't even _consider_ being together until after she graduated?" he asked finally, after a long pause. "I won't lie to you. Not anymore," he muttered quietly.

"It was _illegal_! She was a minor and you were her teacher, how could you –"

"Fall in love with someone that I know I can't have?" he offered angrily. "I didn't expect anything to come from it, I had a crush on a student, and I thought that was all it was. Don't you _dare_ judge me, George, because if you were in my position, if Emilia had felt the same way that you felt when she was still a minor, you wouldn't exactly pull away from her!" he practically growled in return. George scowled.

"That's different."

"Oh, and how the fuck _is_ that different? On the night of Emilia's eighteenth birthday you two kissed – she was drunk and had no idea what she was doing but _you _didn't pull away – you probably would have slept with her if she gave you the chance," he retorted angrily. George grit his teeth, but resisted the urge to sock his friend in the jaw. "You know what it's like to be in love with someone that you shouldn't be in love with, we both knew the what the consequences of our actions would be if anyone found out, but she was more important to me than my job or my teaching licence," he snapped.

"It's different because I've never been in a position of her teacher! I've _never_ pushed that boundary, Howl, I've never been in a position with her that can be construed as illegal!" he argued angrily.

"You've also been pining away for her for _seven fucking years_, George," Howl retorted pointedly.

"How old was she?"

"Seventeen," he begrudgingly admitted.

"You were in a relationship with a seventeen year old student when you were twenty-seven?" George questioned, trying to remain calm, but he certainly wasn't.

"Yes."

"Sleeping with her?"

Howl sighed, and ran a hand through his ruffled hair.

"Yes," he confessed quietly.

"Valerie said something about a detention –"

"_Yes, _for Christ's sake, we had sex when she was supposed to be doing a detention, I'm not proud of it and I _know_ it was wrong, I _know_ that as her teacher I should never have done what I did, I know she was too young and I know that it was risky – but I loved her, and I still do," he threw back angrily. A pause fell over them.

"That's not a justification. You crossed the line, Howl, you jumped right over and spat on it from miles away," George returned calmly.

"I didn't force her to sleep with me, George," Howl practically spat. "Our relationship –"

"_Affair_."

"We were lovers!" Howl cried angrily. "Don't you _dare_ trivialise what happened between Antoinette and I by reducing it to a few sordid fucks, _yes_, what we did was wrong and _yes_, we had to keep it a secret, but it was _not_, and never will be just an 'affair'!" he declared fiercely, his eyes flashing darkly.

"She was a child!"

"At seventeen years of age she was more of a woman than Emilia is at twenty-one – and more than Emilia will _ever_ be!" Howl shouted back angrily.

George raised his fist and brought it within an inch of his friend's face, before pausing his actions with a quiet growl of frustration. Howl didn't even wince.

"You will _not_ insult her – I don't care how highly you think of Antoinette, but I will _not_ stand for _her_ name to be blackened by the likes of you," he threatened dangerously. Howl took a deep, shaky breath as he attempted to retain his composure.

"George, if there's _one_ thing that you should be able to understand in your situation it's that love can't be restricted by a _number_ of years that you didn't even get to spend with _her,_" he said darkly, practically trembling with anger. George sighed, and ran a hand through his dark hair.

"Fine, Howl. _Fine_. What you did was wrong, but there's nothing more that I can say about it," he said calmly. Howl scowled and turned his head away. He began knocking it against the headboard with force, biting back tears, as if to spite his friend. "Stop that!" George demanded angrily. Howl sent him a rather glare that seemed to have the power to reduce him into a pile of smouldering ash. George was familiar with Howl's tendencies towards self-harm, but he wouldn't let him get away with it.

"Anything else you wish to add?" Howl asked coolly. George sighed, and ran a hand through his messy dark hair.

"What was the detention for?"

"Forgetting her homework."

"On the desk?"

"Twice."

George did a pretty poor job of hiding back a snigger, and Howl rolled his eyes in response.

"Sorry – it just explains all those kinky jokes she's ever made," he chuckled. Howl gave him the finger as he lay back on the bed.

"It doesn't matter anymore. She's gone," he said quietly. George sighed.

"Listen, man, she's not gone. She's upset, but she still loves you," he informed him. Howl surveyed him critically.

"But she's gone back to her ex," he reminded him.

"She hasn't 'gone back' to Valerie, she went to stay with her because she knew it would hurt you, and she –" he tried to begin, running a hand through his dark hair. "Listen. You remember that girl I used to date a few years ago? Monica?" he questioned. Howl nodded.

"The annoying one," he murmured.

"Emilia _hated_ her – and I kept on going out with her because I knew that, and I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to make her feel as shit as I did everyday, I wanted to make her realise how much it hurts to have your heart ripped out on a constant basis," he explained carefully. "I hurt her because _I _was hurting, and it wasn't fair that she wasn't too. Toni's been hurting for a long time, every time you left her she fell apart. I think it just got to a point where she was so angry with you for not believing her when she said that she loves you she just… did whatever she could to make you realise how much that hurts," he continued. Howl stared out the window with an expression of deep thought.

"I made her feel this way countless times over the past six years, and she keeps on taking me back," he murmured softly. "If she doesn't love me then I don't – she _must_ love me. If she can put up with this then… she's stronger than I am, and she really _does_ love me –" he almost choked.

"There's more," George said quietly, raising his eyes to meet his friend's. "She's pregnant. Again," he informed him gently. Howl's eyes widened and his mouth fell slightly.

"I – Is she okay?" he murmured in almost silent question.

"She said she's had two miscarriages before, Howl, I think – I think she really needs you. It's going to be really hard for her to do this on her own," he replied.

"She's going to have a baby?" he questioned incredulously.

"It's early, and the risks are still a bit high, but… you're going to have a baby, Howl," he said, not even fighting the grin playing on his lips.

"If she takes me back," he pointed out. George nodded immediately.

"That shouldn't be too hard. You both love each other, and as long as you understand that she _does_ love you," he reminded him. "No more of this insecurity, she's pregnant now, she needs _you_ to be the strong one," he added.

"Shit. A _baby_. How the hell are we going to look after a _baby_?"

"I'd say with the assistance of everyone you know with kids," George retorted with a grin. "Listen, it won't be so bad," he assured him.

"Babies scream and cry all the time and they need constant attention," Howl pointed out anxiously. "And what if I drop it? What if I break the baby? Antoinette will kill me!" he added, his tone growing quite panicked.

"I thought you _wanted_ kids," George reminded him.

"I – I do, but I've never… I only knew about the one she lost a few years ago for a day or so before she lost it, the reality hadn't sunk in," he explained with a stammer, running his hands through his light brown hair. "What if it's like me? What if it – oh _God_, what have I done to my child?" he exclaimed in shock.

"Listen, chances are it won't be bi-polar, and even if it _is_, you'll take care of him –"

"What makes it a him?"

"I felt weird, referring to your child as 'it' and I needed a gender! It was the one I was most familiar with!" he explained with slight agitation. "There's research on mental illnesses going on all the time. For all you know there could be an actual _cure_ being developed right now," he reminded him.

"I can't tell my mother. She'll fly in from Wales and completely and totally smother Antoinette, she did that to my sister when _she_ was having kids and it drove Bronwyn mad," he muttered.

"She'd probably appreciate the advice," George pointed out with a shrug. Howl shuddered.

"No. One of them will murder the other – and I suspect Antoinette's odds of survival are a bit higher than Mam's," he replied dismally. "Fuck. George, a _baby_! How on earth am I going to look after a baby?" he questioned incredulously. George practically growled in irritation beneath his breath.

"If you're freaking out about what's going to happen in nine months how do you think Toni is feeling about what's happening to her right _now_?" he demanded. "_She's_ the one that has to carry the thing around in her stomach for almost a year, _she's_ the one that's going to eat weird things and look like an elephant and apparently something happens to pregnant women's feet – not to mention the birth!" he reminded him. Howl blinked.

"Crap. You're right," he muttered. "Christ… poor Antoinette, she must be going through hell," he added quietly. George sighed.

"Howl, you just need to remember that she's _young_. When you guys started this she was just seventeen, just a child. And she's still really young, only a little older than Emilia or Darcy, and there's barely four years between her and Eli. Maybe it's best that _you_ started taking care of _her_, particularly with a kid on the way," he suggested slowly. "Now, she said I should call her right after I've spoken to you, so do you want to wait? See if she wants to talk to you?" he questioned, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Howl nodded.

"I need to speak with her. She has to come home right away," he insisted. As George was dialling, a curious sort of expression crossed his face, a slight frown marring his features. "Did you say that she's had two miscarriages?" he questioned suddenly.

"She said so on the phone earlier. You'll have to ask her about it, she didn't want to tell me," he explained briefly, as the phone began to ring. He pressed it up to his ear and signalled that his friend be silent. "Toni?" he questioned when he heard someone pick up.

"Have you spoken to him?" she asked hesitatingly.

"Yeah. I told him everything. He wants to speak to you," he replied. "I think… what you did has given him a little bit of a breakthrough. He's got a new perspective on things," he informed her with a little smile.

"Doesn't your flight leave soon?"

"I have plenty of time."

"I – I'll call him back on the house phone, you should go catch your flight," she instructed.

"Thanks. I'll see you when I get back," he assured her, before they gave a brief goodbye, and hung up.

"So? What did she say then?" Howl asked insistently, clearly irked that he hadn't gotten the chance to speak to her.

"She's going to call you back on the house phone. She'll only be a minute," he informed her. Howl sighed gratefully.

"Thank you," he murmured quietly. "Really, George. It's not me that deserves to get the perfect wife and a baby on the way, it's you. You don't deserve unrequited love," he assured him. George shrugged.

"You were lucky. I'm normal," he muttered simply, before turning to the door. "Be good to her, and I'll see you in a few weeks," he said finally, before departing.

He glanced at his watch in the car and groaned. He would have just enough time to get his bags from his apartment and drive over to the airport, he would have barely any time to say goodbye to Emilia.

All he had wanted was a day with her, laughing and packing and joking, just hanging out, like they did almost every day. It wasn't an unreasonable request, and he felt stupid for getting angry at Howl for having his own problems that interrupted his schedule, but he really _did_ just want a few hours to be with Emilia before he had to be away from her for over two weeks.

She was sitting in the carpark, leaning against her BMW with two smoothies in her hand when he drove up.

"Hey. _Mango Magic_, right?" she clarified, holding the smoothie out for him to take when he climbed out of his car. He couldn't help but grin.

"Thanks. I should go up and get my –"

"I already got them, and I finished packing for you. You almost forgot to bring a full-sized photo of me so you don't forget me over in the US of A," she said teasingly. "Now get in, I'll take you to the airport. If we leave now there will be plenty of time for me to laugh as the security feel you up," she added, her pale eyes sparkling. George found himself laughing as she slid into the front seat of her car.

Okay, maybe a few hours with Emilia before he left would have been nice.

But at least _this_ time she remembered his favourite smoothie flavour.

**A/N: Ahhhhh. Year Twelve. Scary. Frightening. The entire world is ending. I still have no idea what I want to do at University! Ahhh! Oh dear! Nooooooooooo!!!!**

**Anyway, no more angst for a while :D I love you all :D**


	7. Of Missing You

"So you're never leaving again, right?"

"Not if I can help it."

"And _why_ did you leave?"

"I was in a bitch of a mood, hun, sorry about that," Toni apologised sincerely to her adopted daughter after she was released from a tight hug. She smoothed back her dark hair affectionately. There was still a hint of accusation in Eli's eyes – as well as confusion. "Babe, I wasn't leaving you guys. I love you both; I just needed to think about something. I was tired and stressed and I did something stupid, I'm sorry, love, and I promise I won't leave you again," she assured her. Eli sighed, and nodded, a slight smile growing on her face.

"Well, at least your birthday party is back on track," she conceded happily. Toni laughed, feeling true happiness glow within her.

"Well at least that's good. Now I think your boyfriend is getting a little impatient," she pointed out, glancing over at Darcy, who stood waiting quietly by the doorway.

"It's good that you're back, Toni," he admitted with a small smile. "Uh – We thought we should give you some space. Eli's going to spend the night at my apartment – but I'll bring her back in one piece tomorrow," he added. Toni nodded.

"Do you two need the 'safe sex' lecture again?"

"Do you need the 'we're just playing scrabble, honestly' response?" he questioned with a raised brow, wrapping an arm around his companion's waist. Toni laughed – because she honestly had absolutely _no_ idea of whether or not the two were actually sleeping together.

"I guess not. I'll see you two tomorrow," she replied warmly, pulling Eli into one last hug, before the two slipped out of the house in silence.

Howl was leaning against the wall with an unreadable expression in his amber eyes. Toni chewed her lip in anxiousness at the conversation she knew was to come. Toni lowered her eyes and stared intently at her shoes. She was surprised to see a small teardrop slowly fall through the oxygen before her, splattering on the hardwood floor in a salty little pool.

His hands were warm and comforting on her arms as he pulled her to his chest. She didn't sob, despite the fact that she wanted to, she only continued to stare at the ground.

"Come on. You look tired," he murmured softly, entwining their fingers together and giving her hand a small, comforting squeeze as he gently pulled her towards the staircase.

She sat down on the edge of the bed with her knees pulled up beneath her chin. He made a move that looked as if he wanted to pull her into an embrace, but he stopped himself just in time. Her pale blonde hair fell around her face in soft, wavy tendrils.

"I _do_ trust you, Antoinette," he murmured after a long silence, sitting down beside her. "And I'm terribly sorry. For everything. Words don't even – I'm just so sorry," he added quietly. "You don't deserve what I put you through. When I proposed I said that I was sorry for all I did, and I _was_, but that didn't stop me from continuing to hurt you," he continued, when he received no reply from her. "I was angry at you. Because you're so damn beautiful and I can understand why that creep at work was trying to hit on you but it doesn't make me feel any better. You're gorgeous and sometimes I wish you weren't because it's just not _fair_," he admitted bitterly.

Toni glanced at him with a rather forlorn expression.

"I never understood… it wasn't until you left that I realised how much you must love me to be able to go through what I went through when I watched you leave, but you kept on loving me, you kept on going, I hurt you time after time but you pulled through," he continued, his voice almost a murmur. "And now I know… you love me. You really do, because you're willing to be hurt so we can be together," he added. He waited for her to reply, a little perturbed at her silence. "Antoinette? Please, just say something," he begged. She shrugged.

"I'm not ready to… go into the details of why things fell apart last night. There's this big build-up of unhappiness and I want to talk about it, I do, but not now. I'm not ready yet," she answered simply. Howl shifted anxiously.

"So… you're staying?" he probed.

"Yes."

"And – And is what George said true? Are you really pregnant?" he questioned carefully. She sighed, and nodded.

"About a month. I found out a few days ago, but I haven't had a chance to go get checked out or anything," she replied quietly. Howl nodded slowly.

"When was the other miscarriage? When did it happen?" he asked finally, with an air suggesting that he had been nervously waiting to ask her. She turned away slightly, and made a move to slide off the bed. He reached for her hand and gently pulled her back. "Antoinette? Please tell me?" he pleaded. She stopped her movements, and took a slow, deep breath.

"It was a few weeks after our first time," she began carefully. His eyes widened in surprise, and her cheeks flushed brightly. "Valerie was there with me. She took me to the hospital; she held my hand the whole time. She promised me that even though she knew I was with you now, she wouldn't abandon me. She wasn't my girlfriend anymore, but she was still my friend," she said quietly. "But it was alright. I only had a few days off school, I remember telling you it was a cold," she added simply.

Howl breathlessly pulled her into his arms, one hand wrapped around her waist, the other over the nape of her neck. She buried her head into the crook of his shoulder and breathed in his warm, familiar scent.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?" he demanded incredulously.

"We'd only been going out for a few months, and I knew that you'd get worried. Someone might have found out about us," she murmured softly. He held her tighter.

"I would have gladly lost my job if it meant I could be the one taking you to the hospital and holding your hand the entire time," he swore vehemently. She wrapped her arms around his neck and nodded.

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't want you to worry," she whispered shamefully. He pulled away slightly, and with slender fingers he tilted her chin back slightly so he could stare into her diamond set eyes. He toyed with the hem of her jumper slightly, before shifting his hand to cover her still-slender stomach.

"You've looked after me for six years, Antoinette. You've been worrying so I wouldn't for far too long – I think it's high time you let me worry," he said calmly, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth. "You've been _so_ strong, much stronger than I've ever been – but it's _my _turn now. Our relationship was never better than when you trusted me to look after you. When you were seventeen and you knew that I was going to be the one to take responsibility for what we were doing we just _clicked_, Antoinette," he continued.

"We've been 'clicking' for the past three years, might I remind you," she pointed out with slight accusation. He sighed, and nodded.

"I know, love. But you just need to trust that I know how to take care of you," he murmured. She looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I'm scared, Howl. I'm more scared than I've ever been in my life," she finally confessed. He gave a soft little smile, and pushed a strand of pale hair from her face, caressing the curve of her jaw with light fingers whilst his other hand gently rubbed her stomach where their baby was hiding.

"I'll take care of you. I'll take care of you and our baby, and we're going to click again, Antoinette, nothing is going to pull us apart ever again," he assured her softly. She couldn't help but smile, and gave a relieved sort of laugh that was a slight contradiction to the tears shining in her pale eyes.

"We're going to have a _baby_," she murmured incredulously, the concept finally sinking in as a smile spread on her lips. Howl laughed, and nodded, pressing his forehead against hers.

"Yes, we are. I'm absolutely petrified – but I can assure you, I'm going to stick around for it," he replied, his amber eyes glimmering. She melted into his hold.

It had only taken one night apart to make them cling together like never before.

She'd never do it again – but it certainly was worth it.

~ * ~

Eli hummed happily as she traced the outline of her beloved's muscles across his chest.

"Would it be naïve of me to assume that you're happy because you're spending time with me, the apple of your eye?" Darcy questioned dryly, lazily tracing some invisible pattern over her shoulder.

"Yep. Terribly naïve – I'm just excited that Toni's back," she laughed playfully. His chuckle reverberated right through her to the tips of her toes. "I was worried for a bit," she confessed, rolling around slightly so she lay half on her stomach, and half on Darcy's.

"I know this is going to sound rather stupid, but she wasn't gone that long. It was more of a false emergency," he pointed out.

"I know, but…" she trailed off, chewing her bottom lip slowly. "I don't know, I kind of figured if _they_ could fall apart, then maybe –"

"Elizabeth," he said warningly. She lowered her eyes so they lingered on the notch at the bottom of his throat with intense interest. "We fight, I won't deny that. But despite the fact that what we promised each other three years ago was _incredibly_ corny –"

"Hey, we went totally _Wuthering Heights_. You said I was your _soul_, hun, and I'm holding you to that," she interrupted sternly, but her eyes still twinkled with laughter. Darcy chuckled.

"Well, it _was_ corny, but true. I honestly don't think I _could_ live without you, we tried it for three weeks and it was just horrible," he reminded her. "So even though we fight sometimes, we're not going to fall apart. And when we get married, we'll be making a public declaration of just that fact," he added.

"Will, what is it going to be like when we get married?" she questioned curiously, after a short pause had fallen upon them. "Where will we live? What will we do every day? Will we have any pets? Am I going to keep my name?" she rambled.

"We'll live at Pemberley, of course, because we both love it there," he rationalised. "And Georgie will live with us, she'll be a big enough pet," he laughed.

"Ooh, she'd _kill_ you if she found out you said that," Eli giggled, poking him in the chest. He gave a rumbling chuckle.

"She can't kill me, she's in France," he reminded her. Eli sighed.

"I wish _I_ could go to boarding school in Paris, it would be so _romantic_," she said dreamily.

"Huh! And the story that we'll be telling our grandkids about how we fell in love isn't romantic at all?" he exclaimed. Eli rolled her dark eyes.

"Sure, babe. But she always comes back so cultured! And I think she's got a French boyfriend," she added with a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. Darcy tensed instantly.

"I'm _not_ having my fifteen year old sister dating some French guy I've never met!" he practically growled. "Fifteen year olds don't have boyfriends – it's _wrong_," he said firmly.

"Might I remind you, I was sixteen when I first had a fiancé," she pointed out slyly.

"Your fiancé spoke the same language as you."

"That has _nothing _to do with it!" she laughed, poking him teasingly in the belly. "And besides, you should send me to a French boarding school so I can work on my French," she declared. He snorted in laughter.

"Your French is fine, it's your _Italian_ that is simply horrific," he retorted. "Oh, and your maths. And if we want to _really_ get into specifics, how is it that a supposed genius child blinks and says 'huh?' when the word '_photosynthesis_' appears anywhere?" he questioned with a raised brow.

"_Hey!_ I got rid of all that brain space filled with maths and science and filled it with those singing tips your drilled into me, might I remind you!" she objected, trying not to sound like she was amused.

"I'm so mean to my little genius," Darcy laughed, hugging his love closer to his chest, and pressing a light kiss on the end of her nose.

"Hmm. Bully – you're supposed to ignore my flaws," she reminded him sternly.

"So I _really_ shouldn't go on about how you can barely even draw stick figures and telling the difference between indigo and blue leaves you in a state of complete confusion?"

"You can sleep on the couch tonight, babe," she informed him with little delicacy, but a hidden little frown. Darcy laughed and kissed the corner of her pouting mouth.

"Only if you're on the couch too," he retorted. With a roll of her eyes, Eli continued their kiss and all thoughts of sleeping on the couch disappeared.

Just as it should be.

~ * ~

Emilia _hated_ it when George went away. She hated being so alone without him, she knew that she had friends, Eli, Will, Toni, Howl, even _Haley_, who was fast becoming a daily accessory to her, but she just didn't have _George_, her best friend, her closest companion, and that made her cranky, restless and constantly upset.

"Miss Woodhouse, I think I like this one better," Haley said in a very matter-of-fact tone, holding up a mock-up of the new advertisements for the Spring _George_ line. Emilia groaned.

"Haley, that one is too brightly coloured, it'll give people epileptic fits if they look at it," she muttered with slight annoyance. "Seriously, I normally just email Antoinette a basic idea and she does all the design stuff, that's too crazy to be a basic plan," she explained for what was quite probably the millionth time. Haley looked very thoughtful.

"Oh. I forgot about that. Who is Antoinette, again?" she asked dumbly. Emilia proceeded to hit her head against the table with some force.

"Listen, why don't we just call it a day, huh? We still have to find you a killer outfit for tomorrow night," she reminded her. Haley blinked in confusion. "Remember? The party. Antoinette's twenty-third. My _cousin_'s twenty-third," she clarified in clear, precise words.

"Ohhhh! I totally forgot about that," Haley giggled. "Sure! Okay, let's go find something!" she suggested eagerly. "You know, it's pretty funny that you have a cousin called Antoinette, and we were just talking about someone else called Antoinette!" she practically giggled, rising to her feet. Emilia rolled her eyes.

"Right. Hilarious," she muttered beneath her breath, picking up her bag and coat.

"It's a shame that George won't be at the party. I really wanted to see him again," Haley said thoughtfully. "When does he get back from America?"

"Two more days," Emilia replied, trying not to let her sadness show. It hadn't been that long, less than two weeks since he had left, but she still missed him. Really missed him. As in 'hey, I'm going to call you at midnight and talk about the colour of my bloody walls just so I can hear your voice' missed him.

She was always surprised at how much she missed having him around when he went away. She found herself getting up to walk down the hall to his apartment before stopping herself with the realisation that he wasn't there. Then she felt pathetic about that.

George's reaction to the midnight phone calls and reunion filled with bone-crushing hugs only made her feel worse, he found it _funny_. He would laugh his head off and tease her about how dependant she was. Then she would ignore him for a day or two, but she'd miss him too much to continue any longer, and they would settle back into their normal routine.

"You know, I really thought you two were going out," Haley threw in randomly as they walked down the hall to the stairs (not the elevator, a girls got to work off all those takeout meals somehow) to the lobby of the office building.

"Most people think that," Emilia shrugged simply.

"Did you used to?"

"Nope."

"Think you will one day?" she probed excitedly. Emilia rolled her eyes – the girl was as much of a matchmaker as she was herself! It looked like she had a little competition to deal with.

"The party's supposed to be casual, but I think we could dress it up a little bit. Heels, tight jeans, a _really_ sexy top, you know?" she replied, changing the subject almost instantly as they walked out onto the busy London street.

"Uhh… you know that unicorn shirt I wear sometimes?" Haley questioned thoughtfully, causing her companion to wince. "I was thinking that. I really like it with the ski pants," she added.

"I'd like to _burn_ the ski pants," Emilia muttered beneath her breath.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. I just said that maybe we should find you something new for tomorrow," she lied instantly, fixing a perfect smile onto her lips. Haley looked slightly perturbed, but nodded.

"Okay. There's a really nice op shop that has good stuff –"

"Hmm. Why don't we go here, okay?" Emilia suggested instantly, cutting Haley's sentence in half as she gestured over to the high-end department store across the street. Haley's eyes widened in shock, and Emilia recognised her chance. Snatching up her new friend's arm she dragged her across the road, winding through cars that honked in anger before walking right into the entrance. Haley hadn't a chance to object.

"But it's so expensive in here," she hissed anxiously.

"I'll buy an outfit for you as a gift, your birthday is coming up, right?" Emilia responded, grabbing her wrist and pulling her towards the ladies wear. "Ooh! Purple! Purple is _the_ colour for you!" she exclaimed excitedly, pulling forth a cute little satin cocktail dress with vigour.

"I dunno, I kind of –"

"We need trousers first, I saw a really cute pair the other day!" she declared, putting the dress back on the rack and practically dragging her charge to the other end of the brightly lit, squeaky clean room.

Two hours and twelve outfits later, Haley was almost in tears and Emilia was just getting started.

"This one. Try _this_ one," she demanded, thrusting some garments into the tired girl's arms with growing vigour.

"Miss Woodhouse, can I go home now?"

"Haley, we've only just gotten started!" Emilia insisted firmly.

"But I'm tired, and –"

"Just try it on, I'm just going to make a call," she interrupted, silencing Haley's protests. The younger girl sighed, and reluctantly made her way back into the change rooms. Emilia gave a small smug little grin. She was very confident about that outfit.

~ * ~

George wasn't all that fond of America. It had never done him any personal harm, but it just… annoyed him.

"Gentlemen, you're going to have to alter the content of your script if you intend on using _Aemilius Knight_ _Productions_ as your backers," he said calmly, placing the profanity riddled pitch back on the desk before him.

"Don't get so high-and-mighty with _us_, Knightley, this is a guaranteed Blockbuster!" one of the two men sitting before his desk practically shrieked. George rolled his eyes.

"Every second sentence has a curse word in it. I don't know how the American audience will react to it, but you are _not_ getting this in a British cinema with the rating you want," he assured them sternly.

"Of course we will. It's _set_ in England," the second man retorted almost instantly.

"I have five more meetings with prospective clients this morning, so unless you're willing to compromise, I don't think anymore can be said," he finished in his best business-like tone. Both men instantly pulled a very sulky expression.

"Whatever. We're _so_ not inviting you to the premiere," the first man hissed, impetuously leaping up from his chair and storming out of the office. His partner apologised briefly before giving him a slight nod, and leaving the room hastily.

George groaned and knelt forwards, resting his head in his hands. He hadn't intended on meeting with prospective clients, but somehow they had been heaped on his schedule. He was _never_ going to get back to England!

He was interrupted from his musings by the sound of his personal office line ringing. Picking it up warily, he muttered out a brief greeting.

"Right. Either you're dying or I mixed up the time difference," came the thoughtful return. His heart instantly lightened, and he leant back in his chair, running a hand through his dark hair.

"Nup. It's about nine in the morning here, which means it's sometime in the afternoon yesterday or a week from Tuesday back in the real world," he sighed.

"Been missing me?"

"Who are you again? Sorry, you've _completely_ slipped my mind. I think I used to know someone in England…" he replied thoughtfully, ignoring her scoff. "Ah yes, short, blonde, _annoying_," he teased.

"You're supposed to say 'stunningly gorgeous, talented, witty and modest'," she reminded him. He couldn't help but snigger.

"You're an arrogant little thing, you know," he answered, unable to hide his smile. "Been watering my plants for me?" he enquired, knowing full-well that she probably wasn't.

"Nup. They commit suicide."

"So the fate of the shrivelled dead things I'm going to find when I get back home will all be self-inflicted."

"You're coming home? Wow, I forgot that. _You having been gone away for so long_, and all!" she objected, feigning surprise.

"So cute. My little girl can't live two weeks without me," he sighed smugly. He could practically feel her scowl from across the ocean.

"I'm not your 'little girl'!"

"Hmm. Sorry about that, I _meant_ my little '_baby_' can't live two weeks without me," he corrected with a grin.

"Bite me."

"Sweetheart?"

"I lied – your plants are fine, but now I'm going to kill them."

"Shnookums?"

"Burn. Burn in hell."

"Pumpkin?"

"I really hope you're in a public place, where everyone around you is pointing and laughing."

"Huggy-bear?"

"I'm going to borrow Romulus and make him pee in your bed."

"Baby Cakes?"

"Is this a challenge?"

"Can you beat 'Honey-Bunch-Sugar-Muffin'?" he returned quite seriously.

"Big Daddy," was her simple response.

"Let's never discuss this again."

"I thought so," she returned smugly. "So I'm shopping," she informed him suddenly.

"When are you _not_ shopping?" he questioned doubtfully.

"Harty-har-har. I'm shopping with Haley, we're trying to find something for her to wear to Toni's party," she explained.

"Ah. So Howl hasn't completely freaked out and cancelled the party yet?" he asked, trying to hide the grin from his voice.

"You _really_ have to tell me this 'big secret' about Toni," she advised him. Her curiosity had quickly turned to frustration.

"Nup, it's none of my business," he informed her smugly, spinning around aimlessly in his office chair. "So how long has the poor girl been suffering under your care?" he asked curiously.

"Haley has been _enjoying herself_ for about two hours now. I just sent her in to try something on, I think it's going to be the perfect outfit," she answered. He could practically _hear_ her scowl.

"Ha! I doubt it, did you chain her up or have you succeeded in brainwashing her yet?" he responded with faked inquisitiveness.

"Shutup. I just wanted to check on you."

"I'm still eating my vegetables and brushing my teeth, you know," he assured her with a roll of his dark eyes, and a small, secret smile.

"Well I can't help but ring, I miss you! When are you coming home?" she whined. He was about to respond when his secretary poked her head into the office unannounced.

"Mister Knightley? Your next appointment is here," she informed him. He nodded.

"Just a minute, Sandra. I'm a little busy," he replied, before pressing the phone back up to his ear. "I'll be home in about two days, Em, you have the exact time my flight will come in," he reminded her.

"Two days is too long! You've already been away two weeks, you _own_ the company, why can't you just come home? Please?" she begged softly. He sighed, and ran a hand through his dark hair.

"I still have a fair bit of work to get through. I only have to make these trips once a year, Em, but when I do I get a lot done," he explained briefly, just as his next appointment stepped into his office. He wanted to shoo them out, but Emilia started speaking again.

"You know, if you got a flight out right now you could make Toni's party," she tried to persuade him.

"I can't, love, you know that. You can torture me when you go away for Paris Fashion Week," he reminded her.

"Bah! I'll only be gone a week!"

"I'll suffer all the same," he assured her. One of his prospective clients raised a brow curiously. He was filled with the sudden urge to just shoo the people out of his office. He hated sharing even a conversation with her.

"Well… maybe you'll have to come to Paris with me. Keep me out of trouble and all," she suggested.

"Hmm. A week with you in Paris. Sounds like crap," he teased.

"You're a friendly SOB, aren't you, George Knightley."

"I live to please you, my dear," he replied with a smug grin. "I have people in the room now, I should probably go," he sighed, glancing over at his audience.

"I care nothing for these people! Kill them! Kill them all!" she urged.

"I _really _hope you're joking."

"I bet they're looking at you weirdly right now."

"Yep."

"Say something dirty, that'll freak them out."

"But sweetheart, I thought you said you preferred the chocolate body paint," he exclaimed suddenly.

"That's good, but too cliché. If I'm some demanding English lover I'd never eat chocolate, it's too fattening," she replied thoughtfully, trying not to snigger.

"Darling, I can't discuss _that_ here, there are others present. And I don't think I'll be able to get the handcuffs through customs, we'll have to be content with the ones we saw on ebay. I know you didn't like the feathers, but at least they'll be soft on your wrists," he continued.

"Brilliant. We'll get rid of them in no time."

"Yes, I got the photo. Those yoga sessions have really been working for you, but _where_ did you find a leather thong? I mean, aren't the rhinestones a little uncomfortable?" he questioned. The clients slowly started backing out of his office.

"Good one. Is it working?"

"Like a charm."

"I should totally work for you."

"Yes, your skills in making me lose clients, and therefore _money_ are impeccable," he retorted with a grin when the strangers had closed the door behind them. She sighed happily.

"It's a gift."

"So is the ego," he teased. "So how _is_ the waif? Has she made a move on my IT manager?" he questioned, shifting the topic along.

"I dunno. She talks about him a lot, but I'm kind of steering away from _that_ issue," she informed him readily. He narrowed his brows slightly. He recognised 'Emilia' language. She wasn't _lying_; she was just bending the truth.

"Hmm. I'll wait and see what you mean by that," he said thoughtfully, glancing at the clock on the wall of his office. "Listen bub, I really do need to get back to work," he sighed unhappily.

"Really? Can't you talk a little longer? Whilst you pack your bags and return to England?" she asked hopefully. He laughed wistfully.

"Sorry, love. I'll see you soon though," he promised.

"Humph," she muttered bitterly. He felt himself grin.

"I'll ring you later tonight."

"Sure. And then you'll never call."

"Only if I'm eaten by Zombies. Tootles, bub," he finished, before she muttered out an unwilling goodbye, and hung up.

The lonely _click_ of the phone back on the receiver did nothing to lighten the heavy weight pressing down on George's chest. He _wanted_ to be back in England, he hated being parted from her for even the shortest amount of time, but people's jobs were depending on him being able to run his company correctly, and he couldn't sacrifice them for his own selfishness.

He glanced at the framed picture on his desk that he had brought with him six months ago on his last trip to LA. A few people had commented on the gorgeous blonde with her arms wrapped around him, her head resting on his shoulder as she shot the camera her best 'I'm so fucking gorgeous it makes you want to cry' expression, whilst he ignored the camera completely and just stared… at her. With wonder and love and awe. It was so evident in his expression that he hadn't let her see that picture, for fear that she would instantly be able to see his feelings.

He gave a bitter smile. She probably had no idea.

~ * ~

"That's the one."

"Really? It feels a little weird."

"That's because this is the first time you've worn real clothing."

"Huh?"

"Nothing, Haley," Emilia waved her off, stepping forwards to inspect the outfit with her keen, pale blue eyes. She wore a pair of dark skinny-leg jeans and a spaghetti-strapped satin violet top that made it look like she actually had breasts and that her posture wasn't as bad as it appeared. The outfit would look fantastic with a pair of black stilettos, but Emilia was fully aware that for the safety of all involved, the black satin flats were the best bet. "This is perfect. A little mascara, some lipstick and a straightener and I can guarantee you'll be stunning," she assured her eagerly, stepping back from her creation with a broad grin. Haley turned doubtfully to the full length mirror.

"Really, Miss Woodhouse? It feels pretty strange. I don't know how I feel about this outfit," she confessed. Emilia almost groaned in frustration.

"Haley, you look _gorgeous_! It suits you much better than your unicorn shirt and ski pants ever did!" she assured her passionately. Haley blinked in surprise.

"Really? You think so?" she questioned incredulously. Emilia eagerly nodded in affirmation.

"Of course I do. It's perfect, I'm buying it for you right now and you can wear it tomorrow," she declared. Haley giggled, excitement finally taking over.

"Okay! As long as you like it, Miss Woodhouse," she acquiesced finally.

Emilia couldn't help but smirk. She _was_ the master of makeovers. There was an incredible transformation already, and she hadn't even done her hair or makeup! No doubts about it, Haley Smith was going to be a stunning example of the female race.

"Thank you _so_ much Miss Woodhouse, you're so good at this! I have tons of clothes at home but I can never turn them into an _outfit_!" Haley exclaimed as the shop assistant put through their purchase. Emilia laughed modestly.

"That skill comes in handy in this line of work, you know," she laughed, turning back to the shop assistant to hand over her credit card. Her smile grew – the girl was wearing a _George_ cardigan.

"Actually, Miss Woodhouse, do you think that sometime you could help me make up outfits with all those new clothes I got from the sample range?" Haley asked with timid hopefulness. Emilia turned back to her in surprise.

"Of _course_, Haley, you only need to ask," she responded eagerly. "Whenever you want, I'll come over and help you," she assured her.

"Umm… what about now?"

Emilia thought over her schedule. She would be having dinner with her father later, and until then she would probably be sitting alone in her apartment, staring at the walls and wishing George was home.

"Sure. I've got nothing on right now, I'd love to," she answered with a beaming grin. Haley mirrored her expression and practically squealed with delight.

"Oh, _thank you_ Miss Woodhouse, you're so kind to me!" she exclaimed happily. Emilia accepted the bag from the shop assistant and her card with a smile. She was filled with a warm glow that always occurred whenever she helped someone.

She _loved_ that glow.

**A/N: I'm sleepy.**

**Zzzzzz…**


	8. Of Meeting Frank

Haley lived in a shoebox.

Scratch that, a _frightening_ shoe box.

Her flat was in one of the 'cheaper' sides of London, in a building that had seen better days, and was mostly populated by students who could only afford to eat two meals a day.

"Umm, Haley, is _this_ your apartment?" Emilia questioned dumbly as they stepped into the cramped open plan studio flat. In one corner sat her bed, and on it, around it, beneath it and heaped up in a corner were her clothes, shoes, accessories, _everything_. The kitchen was tiny, it had a fridge, a microwave, a hotplate and a toaster oven. There was no table on which to eat, but there was a lemon coloured two person couch that had seen better days, propped in front of a small Hello Kitty TV. There was an old computer in another corner, and a door that she could only assume led to the bathroom. She didn't even want to _think_ about the bathroom.

All in all, it was small, dingy, and whatever space wasn't taken up by her small amounts of furniture was filled with stuffed toys, dream catchers, plastic unicorns or… cloves of garlic. She wrinkled her nose, that certainly explained the smell.

"Yep! I've lived here since I came to England, it's quite nice," she replied simply, tossing her purse on the couch. "Well, it's cheap. And I like it," she clarified with a shrug.

"How do you _live_ here?" Emilia exclaimed almost breathlessly.

"Oh, very easily. I don't mind that the kitchen is a little small, I can't cook anyway, and I don't watch a lot of TV, mostly I just sleep," she explained simply, walking over to the 'bedroom'. Emilia stepped over an empty takeout box hesitatingly.

"How much do you sleep?" she muttered in disbelief.

"Well, I always try to sleep about fourteen to sixteen hours a day," she answered. Emilia's eyes widened.

"_Why_?"

"I read somewhere that sleeping keeps you alert and focused. I like sleep," she answered happily. Emilia practically winced at the prospect of the work she had ahead of her.

But, she reminded herself, she had always enjoyed a good challenge.

About three hours later things had definitely started to work in Haley's tiny little apartment, and all with the use of coloured markers.

"See, Haley, whenever you want to get ready to go out, you have to find a piece of clothing from the _good_ pile," she began, gesturing over to the pile of clothes she had deemed 'appropriate', "And look through till you find something. You check what colours are on the dots, and then you find something else with that coloured dot on it. Most of them have a few dots, but that's okay, it means that there's more things for you to choose from," she explained. Haley nodded slowly.

"Okay… I think I get it," she murmured thoughtfully.

"Now remember, _more_ is _less_. So even though this skirt has a blue dot, and so do these pants, it _doesn't_ mean you should wear both of them, it just means that they both go with something else with that coloured dot," she continued informatively.

"Okay, I _think_ I really do understand!" Haley replied eagerly as she sat atop her bed, peering over at the neatly arranged piles of clothing. Emilia beamed. She was quite fond of her system. It had its flaws, of course, but she might even be able to incorporate it into the label.

"Good. Now I need to go have dinner with my father, but I want you to come over to my place tomorrow so we can get you ready for the party, okay?" she finished, picking up her purse.

"Of course, Miss Woodhouse, thank you _so_ much!" Haley almost squealed, her big wide eyes taking in the new arrangements of her 'wardrobe' with excitement.

"That's quite alright, Haley, it was no trouble at all," she replied, the warm glow practically enveloping her as she slipped out of the apartment.

Haley's newfound joy was the precise reason why she enjoyed helping others so much. It filled her with a sense of happiness and wellbeing. She absolutely _loved_ that feeling, and could handle George's taunts that she was only being selfish if it meant she could run on a little of the happiness that those she helped emitted.

~ * ~

"Are _all_ your friends rich?" Haley hissed nervously as they drove up the suburban street and pulled into the crowded driveway of the Llewellyn house.

"Howl comes from old money in Wales. He's not _filthy_ rich, but he made a fair bit of money in the 90s writing songs for films and other musicians," she explained. "That and the fact that he has pretty cheap taste means he's got more than enough to live off," she added briefly, pulling the keys out of the ignition as Haley stared up in wonder at gorgeous two story French Provincial-style home. It wasn't as big as Emilia's father's house, but it was still a very pretty place to live.

"Will there be lots of people here tonight?" Haley asked nervously as they climbed out of the car.

"Haley, you look _gorgeous_, don't be frightened. Yes, there will be a few, but we'll probably just be hanging out in one of the smaller groups with Antoinette," she assured her. Haley blushed at the compliment, and nodded.

She really _did_ look very pretty. Her outfit had completely transformed her appearance, her long blonde hair had been trimmed a little so it still hung to her waist, but not in messy, matted locks. Her makeup was light and tasteful, but still brought out her pretty features. She had ditched the red rhinestone glasses in favour of contact lenses, and the blue lipstick for a pale pink gloss. She wasn't really stunning or gorgeous, but that would come when she had more confidence in herself. For now her insecurity was a bright neon flashing sign, but her prettiness was making up for it.

Emilia had taken more care with Haley's appearance than her own, but she still looked stunning as usual. She wore a cute little waist high pale pink skirt and a sweet, gauzy cream blouse with black patterned tights and a nice pair of lace-up heels, her hair pulled back into a low bun with a cute black bow around her head. She held herself with grace and elegance that boasted her position in the world and the confidence she had in her appearance, a confidence that Haley just didn't have.

"Come on then, I want you to meet some people," she urged her, pulling her up to the front of the house eagerly. The house was alive with music and happily chatting voices, and they were able to walk right into the vibrant atmosphere. "Eli!" Emilia cried out eagerly upon spotting her friend.

"Wow. Haley, you look… different," Eli exclaimed in complete surprise when she approached the pair. She too looked beautiful in a nearly transparent cream frock made completely out of lace and a pair of dark, floral stockings beneath it, her hair flowing down her spine in perfect curls, her makeup subtle but elegant.

"No more unicorns," Emilia beamed proudly. Eli raised a brow as she took the girl in.

"I guess you didn't manage to get George to come home early," she stated, to which Emilia sighed in disappointment.

"He still has work. But he'll be back soon," she replied, changing her tone to one of cheerfulness (however forced). "The party looks great so far, how's Antoinette?" she questioned, glancing around the hall to see if she could spot the birthday girl.

"Probably asleep, Nada has been pretty strict on the amount of rest she needs to be getting," she laughed, rolling her eyes. "I think I saw her in the kitchen before, Georgie made all her favourite foods and sent them over from Paris so she's pigging out," she informed her with a little more seriousness.

"I don't care if that girl is only fifteen, Georgie is a culinary _Goddess_!" Emilia exclaimed with a suppressed moan at the thought of the unbelievably delicious baked goods that Georgiana Darcy had produced.

"She made those triple chocolate biscuits that you like, but they were a little damaged on the flight over," Eli teased, her dark eyes twinkling as she arched a grin. Emilia sighed unhappily.

"I have to introduce Haley a few people first, but _please_ make sure you save some for me!" she pleaded. Eli laughed and gave her word as an arm snaked around her waist from behind. "Haley, this is Will, but most people just call him Darcy. He's Eli's partner, he works in the company his father built, _Darcy Inc._, but he's also starting up a Performing Arts school in Derbyshire," she introduced as Haley took in the handsome man standing before her with side eyes.

"Impressive intro, Em, but you didn't tell her his shoe size," Eli pointed out teasingly.

"I don't _know_ his shoe size."

"I doubt he does either," Eli sniggered. The boy wrapped around her rolled his pale eyes.

"Darcy, this is Haley Smith, she works at _George_," Emilia continued, ignoring her friend's teasing.

"It's a pleasure," he said politely, shaking her hand briefly. He wasn't very good with strangers, despite Eli's attempts to integrate him into the real world.

"Umm… you too," Haley muttered, her cheeks blushing bright red.

"Haley, you look really nice tonight," Eli complimented, when the girl was unable to say anything else. Her blush only grew.

"T – Thank you, Miss Woodhouse helped me get ready," she explained nervously. Emilia beamed.

"Doesn't she look fantastic? I was going to go introduce her to a few people in a minute," she informed the couple.

"This place has nice ceilings too," Haley said randomly, staring up at the roof. Confused, Eli and Darcy glanced above, only to see nothing, before returning their gaze to the strange girl before them. "Do you think that the moon is really made of cheese?" she questioned suddenly, lowering her head with impossibly big and inquisitive eyes. Emilia wanted to bash her head against the wall; she _really_ had no idea why the girl did that. It was quite off putting.

"Ummm. Perhaps you should do a little research into that," Darcy suggested blankly, taking Eli's hand. "We're going to go –"

"Make out?" supplied Emilia, receiving a scowl from Darcy.

"- _greet some people_," he corrected sternly. "It was nice to meet you, Haley. I hope you have a pleasant evening," he finished, with a nod in the younger girl's direction, before leading his partner away.

"He's older than her," Haley commented, wrinkling her nose slightly.

"Only by about two or three years, they suit each other very well," she assured her in distracted response. "Umm… Hales, why did you just do that?" she questioned with slight confusion. Haley blinked.

"Do what?"

"Stare at the ceiling… and then talk about the moon and cheese," she reminded her. Haley continued to blink in surprise.

"Really? I heard somewhere that the moon is _made_ out of cheese. I think that's awfully interesting, don't you?" she replied with a happy little grin. Emilia sighed, and linked arms.

"Come on then, let's try to find Elton," she muttered dismally.

They wound through guests, rooms and furniture in search of the elusive Elton Phillips, seemingly in vain. It was rather unusual, Emilia had never known Elton to skip out on any party within a fifty mile radius, but her gaze finally caught on a familiar mop of blonde hair and twinkling blue eyes.

Elton Phillips was a twenty-three-year-old part-time university student who had changed his major so many times that no one, including himself, was really sure he was studying anything at all. Emilia met him when he was in her design class the year before – however he soon switched to Social Science. He was a very social person and enjoyed parties more than oxygen, but he was also very attentive. In all her experiences with him he had always asked about her health, her family, her work, _everything_, and listened with great eagerness. Haley needed a guy that would pay as much attention to _her_ than he did himself, and to her, Elton Phillips fit that mould perfectly. In addition, he was attractive (but not really her tastes, she preferred the tall, dark and handsome man over a blonde beauty any day), intelligent and kind, as well as having enough money to be comfortable in his position in life.

"I dunno, I kind of think Bobby is cuter," Haley muttered quietly. Emilia almost groaned, but held her protests back.

"Bobby isn't here right now, so maybe you should just get to know Elton. He's really nice," she assured her. Haley chewed her lip, and nodded with determination. "That's the spirit, I just _know_ that you're going to –"

"My, my, my, Emilia Woodhouse in the flesh."

Emilia wheeled around and instantly fixed a friendly grin on her perfect pink lips.

"Elton! Wow, what a surprise to see you here! How _are_ you?" she questioned eagerly. He gave a slight smirk and tossed back a blonde lock, leaning against the wall with an air of casual grace.

"Pretty good, I'm studying engineering now," he informed her pleasantly.

"Engineering? Really? Wow. Haley, isn't that just _fascinating_?" she questioned, turning to her speechless friend. "Oh, yes, Elton, this is Haley, a friend from work. Haley, this is Elton Phillips, I might have mentioned him to you once," she introduced. Elton took in the nervously shifting girl beside Emilia with a raised brow.

"Hey," he greeted, giving a slight nod. Haley giggled and blushed.

"H – Hi," she stammered out, chewing her bottom lip and fluttering her lashes. Elton looked a little perturbed, but brushed it off, and turned back to Emilia.

"So how has everything been? It feels like _years_ since I last saw you," he commented. Emilia rolled her eyes.

"Everything has been fine, nothing new to report," she responded simply. "I was going to go find the birthday girl. I'll leave you two alone to chat, shall I?" she suggested suddenly, clapping her hands together with a bright smile. Before anyone could protest she had ducked away amidst the crowd of people on her way to the kitchen, congratulating herself on what was sure to be the second perfect match made.

"Emilia!" she heard someone call from behind her. She wheeled around instantly, recognising the voice but having no idea what it was doing there.

"Tay! I thought you were still on your honeymoon!" she exclaimed excitedly, rushing to embrace her friend who had a gorgeous tan and a rock the size of a small planet glittering on her hand.

"James' little brother was able to get away from Boston early, so we wanted to get back and spend as much time as we could with him," she explained. "James has really missed him, so he's very excited about it," she added eagerly. Emilia's brow raised slightly.

"Is this the mysterious Frank Churchill that I've heard so much about?" she questioned curiously.

"You'll _love_ him, we've told him all about you and he _really_ wants to say hi, he's around here somewhere," she raved excitedly. Emilia laughed as she took in her friend. Taylor was pretty, but not gorgeous, but married life had given her a sort of _glow_ of vitality and beauty. "I'm going to go find him, but tomorrow we have to have lunch, I want to tell you all about the honeymoon!" she insisted.

"Not _everything_, I hope," she laughed. "Alright, I'm going to go say hello to the birthday girl, but I promise to come back and find you and this mysterious Frank Churchill," she swore firmly. Taylor disappeared with a kiss on the cheek and a brilliant smile, leaving Emilia laughing in her wake.

"Oh, Emilia! So _nice_ to see you here!" a horribly familiar voice exclaimed, interrupting her journey to the kitchen for a second time. She turned and fixed her most polite smile on her face.

"Henny, it's _lovely_ to see _you_ here," she replied warmly, embracing Henrietta Bates with as much fondness as she could. She really _did_ love Henrietta terribly, but she was quite annoying. Particularly when the woman had taken it on herself to be a 'comfort' after the death of her mother, and insisted on talking about _everything_, despite Emilia's requests that things would be left undiscussed. But talking was Henrietta's forte, and once she got started, it was very difficult to shut her up again.

"Emilia, dear, you look so lovely, oh my, such a pretty skirt!" she exclaimed. "But of _course_ you would wear such beautiful clothes, you own a fashion label after all, and thank you _terribly_ for all those pieces you sent me the other week, they were just lovely, I said to my grandmother, I said 'Miss Woodhouse is _such_ a wonderful young woman, to think of her old friends like this'," she raved. Emilia smiled softly.

"That's quite alright, Henny, it was no trouble," she assured her with a brief nod. She liked to help out Henrietta, she just wished that she wouldn't get so much thanks! The woman would rave about how kind and considerate she was for weeks!

She had known Henrietta for several years. She was about fifteen years older than herself and unmarried, with no children, and lived with her elderly grandmother. She used to live off her father's vast wealth, not having been taught to do anything but look after a husband, but after her father's sudden death the money stopped, and she and her grandmother had expected to live off what they had saved for the rest of their lives. Emilia tried to help them out as much as possible without making it look like charity, and sending them some of the free samples she got of the new line was just one of the more simple things she could do.

They both lived just down the road from her father, and after his accident, a new opportunity arose for the pair to make some money. Henrietta kept things in order in the house, little duties that the maids and cook didn't do, and it gave them enough money to survive on with reasonable comfort.

"Yes, it was _very_ nice of you, very nice indeed, but you're _always_ so kind to us," she continued.

"It's really no bother, Henny, I don't mind," she assured her before she could get another word in. "Do you mind if I excuse myself for a minute? I wanted to find Antoinette, I haven't seen her much recently," she explained, glancing towards the kitchen as a clear path appeared.

"Oh, of course, Emilia, of _course_ dear, I do go on sometimes, _very_ sorry for that," Henrietta laughed softly. "We'll continue this a little later, I suppose. Enjoy your evening, Emilia, dear," she finished smilingly, allowing her to duck off between guests to finally slip into the kitchen.

"Shall I sing 'happy birthday' to you in my incredibly out of tune voice?" she suggested with a grin as she finally spotted Antoinette, sitting at the breakfast bench with her husband, a can of some sort of soft drink in her hand and a gorgeous smile on her face.

"Em! Jeez kiddo, you _really_ have to clear your schedule, I haven't seen you for ages," Toni exclaimed, jumping off the stool and eagerly throwing her arms around her cousin's neck.

"Careful, love, don't hurt yourself," Howl advised with a hint of sternness in his tone. Toni rolled her pale eyes, but her grin grew a little, as if her husband's attentiveness secretly pleased her.

"Don't worry so much babe, I'm fine," she assured him laughingly, releasing Emilia from her grip.

"So how _are_ you? Everything is okay now?" she questioned anxiously.

"Everything is spiffy. No more troubles on the horizon," Toni replied with sincere cheerfulness. She glanced over to her husband, who was smiling with a subtle twinkle in his eye. She beamed.

"Oh shit. You're pregnant."

"What the –"

"How the _hell_ did you _do_ that, cuz?" Toni exclaimed in shock. Emilia's brows raised suddenly.

"You mean you actually _are_? I was only teasing!" she practically squealed, before a huge grin broke out on her face. "Oh my God, this is so _cool_!" she cried excitedly, pulling Toni into a tight squeeze, suffocating the mother-to-be with her giggles and excited babbling about names and the best schools in the district and how she was going to start designing a range of baby clothes.

"Emilia, you can't tell anyone about this, Eli doesn't know yet," Howl hissed to the eager blonde. "And I think you're squashing my wife," he pointed out briefly.

"Oh. Oops," she laughed, releasing Toni, who stumbled back in surprise.

"Wow. You pack a punch, little cuz," she muttered, rolling her neck.

"Sorry. I'm just so excited!" she squealed, clapping her hands together with excitement. "When's it due? What's it going to be?" she questioned instantly.

"About mid-Autumn, late September, we think, and we won't know for a while if it's a boy or girl," Howl answered, wrapping his arm around his wife's waist, his hand pressed gently over her stomach.

"Why haven't you told Eli yet? She'll be so excited!" she exclaimed.

"We don't want her to…" Howl began slowly, thinking over his words.

"You think she'll get jealous because you're going to have a baby together whilst she's just the adopted kid," she stated slowly. Howl and Toni both nodded.

"And we don't want to announce it for a little while, just in case…" Toni trailed off, giving a small shrug and lowering her eyes. Howl pulled her a little closer to his side.

"I think you should tell Eli, she's really want to know," she threw in. Howl smiled.

"We know. Just a little while longer and we'll tell her, a few weeks, maybe," he assured her. "For now you have to keep it a secret, okay?" he requested. Emilia nodded and pulled the happy couple in for a tight hug.

"I'm so _excited_ for you guys! Oh, this is going to be just great!" she squealed.

"It'll be even _greater_ if you stop attacking me," Toni pointed out, her voice slightly muffled. Emilia stepped back, unable to stop beaming.

"This is awesome. Really guys, I'm _so_ happy for you," she replied. Toni laughed at her eagerness, and nodded.

"Thanks, cuz. But you're not naming it."

"Aww! But I know some _really_ good ones!" she protested. Toni shook her head firmly.

"We're naming it _The Clash_ and that's final."

"But what if it's a girl?"

"_Oasis_."

"Middle name?"

"_The Arctic Monkeys_."

"Nice."

"I thought so."

"Alright, _neither_ of you are naming my child," Howl intervened sternly, causing both girls to erupt into laughter. He rolled his eyes. "Fine. We'll have triplets and call them _Crosby, Stills and Nash_," he threatened.

"Oh quiet, babe, I _said_ we could call it Joni Mitchell if it's a girl," she reminded him.

"Joni Mitchell Joan Baez Llewellyn has a nice ring to it," he muttered thoughtfully. Emilia made a retching noise. "Well I pity the poor child that has to suffer your name choices in the future," he laughed in his defence.

"I'm not having children, it would be cruel and it would contradict the theory of evolution," she replied with a self-teasing smirk. "Okay, I need to find someone who has a kid and ask them about what babies wear so I can design some stuff for little Chanel," she said thoughtfully.

"You are _not_ naming any daughter of mine 'Chanel'," Howl said sternly. Emilia rolled her eyes.

"Of _course_ not. I'll name your _son_ Chanel," she retorted instantly. "If it's a girl you'll call it 'Grey'," she added with a mischievous grin.

"That's one of Eli's middle names," Toni muttered thoughtfully, tapping her lips.

"We can't call our baby 'Grey'."

"I think it's cute!" Toni defended. Howl rolled his eyes, and firmly shook his head.

"No."

"You're _so_ not getting any tonight," she threatened. He winced in response.

"Alright. We'll put it on the 'maybe' list," he gave in finally. Toni beamed.

"Epic! Ooh, 'Epic', that would be a pretty good name!" she said suddenly.

"Good Lord, maybe we should just pick something out of a hat," he muttered dismally. Emilia couldn't help but snigger.

"You guys are going to be the best parents, I swear to God," she assured them. Howl smiled.

"We already _are_ parents," he reminded her. "Please don't tell Eli yet, we'll tell her soon enough," he requested.

"Of course. Your secret is safe with me," she swore firmly.

"Ooh, secrets. I _love_ secrets," a cheerful American accent sounded from the entrance to the kitchen. Emilia turned to take in the handsome man leaning against the doorway with a raised, very appreciative brow.

He was _gorgeous_ – a dead ringer for Jude Law. She didn't normally go for blondes, but he was simply stunning, with his cheeky blue-green eyes and flaxen locks that curled nicely at the ends, and just brushed his shoulder. He had a pleasant grin and was dressed well in a pair of designer label jeans, expensive trainers and a classy dark brown leather jacket over a white Oxford shirt. He was young, around about Antoinette's age, maybe a little older, but he had a presence about him that was just… _wow_.

"I've been informed that one of you is Emilia Woodhouse, am I correct?" he questioned, taking in those assembled.

"Yep. This is she," Toni declared, pointing towards her husband. "She's a little hairy today, hasn't shaved, poor lass, but if you take a sip of the 'punch' she'll look like Pamela Anderson, I can assure you," she continued. Howl stared at her blankly.

"Now _you're_ not getting any tonight," Emilia hissed to her cousin, who was fighting a grin.

"Wow, rumour had it that Emilia Woodhouse was hot, but you're just stunning," the man drawled teasingly. Howl sent him a blank look too.

"Right. I'm going to go shave," he declared dryly, releasing his wife and slipping out of the kitchen, his eyes twinkling with laughter as he struggled to keep composed.

"So. One of you two lovely ladies is Emilia, and I'm guessing it's… you," he said, nodding towards the true Emilia herself. She couldn't help but smile.

"Frank Churchill?"

"Wow, I'm almost as famous is Paris Hilton," he drawled teasingly.

"In this part of town you certainly are. But I was beginning to think that you were just a myth," she retorted playfully.

"A myth, huh? Well, as you can see, I'm here in the flesh, but the same can be said about you. I've heard rumours of your beauty, intelligence and talents all the way over in Boston," he commented with a grin. "Actually, this part of England is pretty famous for its beautiful people, from what I've heard. I've been told to look out for another cute little blonde – you, I take it?" he questioned, turning to Antoinette.

"I disagree with 'cute'," she replied thoughtfully.

"And a little brunette from Australia, too, but I think I might have spotted her earlier," he commented. "However, I think I've found my favourite," he added, looking Emilia up and down with obvious intent.

"I'll tell Howl, he'll be so flattered," she replied dryly. Frank laughed.

"I'm sure. And will Howl be free for a few hours? I think we'd really hit it off," he continued playfully, just as Howl returned to the hallway.

He stopped walking instantly, and stared in slight horror at Frank Churchill.

"Sicko," he muttered, shaking his head as he continued walking. Frank instantly jumped in surprise and mortification as Emilia and Toni practically exploded with unladylike guffaws. Frank started to chuckle when he saw the humour of it, but it would be very unlikely that Howl would get the joke – which only made them laugh all the more.

When they had finally managed to stop laughing, Emilia took every inch of this Frank Churchill in.

She was pretty happy with what she saw.

**A/N: Wow, I'm **_**so**_** tired! Year 12 is getting stressful already! I've barely had **_**any**_** time to keep on writing this story, what with all my homework and assignments building up already, and it's only the end of week two!**

**Oooh, and Halloween is coming up! In Australia we don't really celebrate it in terms of trick or treating, in fact, where I live, we don't celebrate it at all, but I have a friend who is obsessed with America and each year plans a party where we sit around her house playing singstar and watching freaky movies. Last year I went as Sailor Moon, and this year I was **_**going**_** to go as Polka from the Xbox 360 game (yes, I really **_**am**_** a nerd), but I didn't finish my costume on time so I'm borrowing my Japanese friend's Pikachu costume! T'will be epic! Joy!**

**Okay, got to update this so I can finish my history homework. Hope you liked it, and as always, please review!**


	9. Of Clubs and Shared Beds

"_With all your lies, you're still very lovable,_

_I toured the light,_

_So many foreign roads_

_For Emma, forever ago_,"

-Bon Iver, 'For Emma'

Emilia had made up her mind by the end of the party. She would fall in love with Frank Churchill like any sensible girl should. He was attractive, educated (a Harvard graduate, no less, with a degree in Phycology and Human Behaviour), well-off (he lived with his late mother's sister, who funded his every whim, as long as _he_ adhered to _her_ every whim) and undoubtedly very charming. She liked him immediately, and could see no reason why she shouldn't, he was everything a girl dreamed of in a man and more, and she had always wanted to be in love.

It appeared, however, by the end of the night, that Haley had made the same decision as she about someone else. She declared herself at the end of the evening completely and totally devoted to Elton Phillips, even to the point of grabbing her companion by the shoulders and practically gasping out '_I want to have his babies_'.

Which frightened Emilia, just a little.

Taylor and James were both ecstatic that she got along with Frank so well, it really _did_ seem like a match made in heaven. She'd never had any desire to use her finely developed matchmaking skills on herself, but she didn't really have much desire to be in a _relationship_ with Frank, per say, she just wanted to sort of… daydream about it. A pretend relationship would be fun, she guessed.

"Oh, and he's so _funny_! Don't you think he's funny, Miss Woodhouse?" Haley sighed dreamily over the phone the day as Emilia prepared herself for the day ahead after showering from her daily jog. A quick stop over at Henrietta's, then she needed to drop some groceries off at her father's place and have lunch with Taylor (where she might just see Frank!) before picking George up from the airport.

"Yes, Haley, he's hilarious," she replied, smiling happily with the fantastic results of her matchmaking. Haley and Elton would be a fantastic pair.

"I'm _so_ glad I knocked Bobby back, he's _nothing_ compared to Elton!" she added. Emilia put down her tube of mascara and stared at the speakerphone set, as if it would give her the answers she needed.

"What do you mean by that?" she questioned with a slight frown.

"Oh, Bobby called this morning, he asked if I wanted to go out tonight, but I said I wasn't interested in him anymore and he should stop calling," she declared with glee. Emilia blinked in surprise.

"But I thought you liked Bobby," she stated dumbly.

"Oh, well, I _did_, but you made me realise that I need more than someone like Bobby Martin, I need a guy like _Elton_," Haley explained.

"Oh," Emilia muttered. "Umm, was he okay?" she questioned.

"Well, I didn't really care about that, I was actually thinking of Elton. He's _so_ amazing, Miss Woodhouse," she sighed happily. Emilia thoughtfully chewed her lip. She hadn't wanted anyone to get _hurt_, she figured that Haley would still be friends with both guys until she realised what she wanted. She had, if she was honest to herself, wanted her to end up with Elton, but she didn't want to hurt anyone in the process! "I'm so happy, and it's all thanks to _you_, Miss Woodhouse! I was going to ask you what to do when Bobby called, but then I realised that you would tell me not to go out with him, so I did exactly what I knew you would want!" she declared proudly.

"Well, as long as you're happy, Haley," she replied, trying to sound a little more cheerful, however, she couldn't help but feel a little guilty.

"Oh, Miss Woodhouse! Did I do the wrong thing?" Haley questioned nervously, obviously sensing her discomfort. Emilia waved her off.

"No, of course you didn't. I was a bit wary about this 'Robbie' guy anyway, but it's your choice, and I don't want to push you," she assured her firmly, fixing a smile onto her lips that she was quite determined to make stick.

She really hoped that Robbie hadn't been hurt.

"Miss Woodhouse, are you quite alright? Oh, my dear, you look a little pale," Henrietta rambled a little while later, interrupting her musings. Emilia snapped out of her reverie, and gave a small smile.

"Of course, Henny, I'm fine. I was just thinking, that's all," she assured her, glancing at her watch. "I should probably get going, but it was nice to catch up with you again," she said sincerely, rising to her feet in the small living room of the apartment.

"Of course, Emilia, dear, it was so _sweet_ of you to come, so very kind, but you're always so very kind, dear, always thinking of old ladies like me, why, I was _just_ saying to Jane the other day, 'I just _know_ that you and Jane will get along splendidly again, she's _such_ a dear, sweet girl, she is'," she rambled. Emilia stopped her journey to the front door instantly, and practically froze.

"Jane?"

"Oh yes, dear, did I not say? Oh dear, and I _did_ think I had mentioned it, because some of the clothes you sent grandmother and I were a little young for us, you know, so we've decided to give them to dear Jane when she returns – she'll be coming back from America very soon, you know, she's finished her position there, you know, and she's decided that she'll stay with us for a little while before she finds another job," she explained quickly. Emilia tensed slightly. She did _not_ like Jane Fairfax, Henrietta's niece, at all.

Jane Fairfax was the poster-girl for a Mary Sue. Tall, leggy, with auburn waves and intelligent green eyes, she was elegant and refined, and no matter how hard she had tried, Emilia couldn't get her even a smile out of her. And she _had_ tried. She felt it necessary, particularly when Jane became involved with George about two years ago, but a colder woman couldn't be found locked in a case of liquid nitrogen, buried in a freezer twenty-feet in ice in the centre of Antarctica during a mid-winter blizzard.

"Uhh… Jane is coming back?" she questioned hesitatingly. Henrietta beamed.

"Yes, isn't it just _splendid_? I was worried, for a little while, about how it would affect poor George, but I'm quite sure that everything shall be fine, you know, he's _such_ a dear, and Jane is _so_ sweet, I'm sure everything will go along just swimmingly," she said quickly. Emilia bit her lip softly.

_The girl had only broken George's heart, but no, it won't affect him at all!_ she thought angrily.

"Well, I hope that all works well, I can't wait to see her," she lied. "I'll come visit again soon, Henny, I promise. Have a good day," she finished with a little distraction, slipping out of the modest apartment in haste.

What would she tell George? He'd probably jump back into a plane and disappear to America when he found out she was coming back!

No, she decided, she wouldn't tell him. She would go out of her way to make sure that they just didn't see each other, it shouldn't be too hard. Jane Fairfax was _not_ going to hurt George again!

No one was really sure (other than Jane and George, of course) what had happened between them two years ago. Not even Emilia knew, because George kept his 'private life' separate from his 'Emilia life'. They kept their relationship very quiet, only those closest knew about it. They announced their engagement to some close friends, but three months before the wedding was to take place, Jane went to America and George continued on as normal. He didn't speak to anyone about it. Not that Emilia wanted to know that much – she wasn't exactly Jane Fairfax's biggest fan, and she had no desire to hear about how the girl had hurt the most important person in her life.

She endeavoured to think about the issue a little later, particularly when she met Taylor for lunch at her new stylish penthouse apartment in the centre of London. Life with James was certainly treating her well, and she enjoyed the break she was taking from work to settle into her new life.

"Hmm, can't keep away from me, can you?" Frank's teasing voice questioned as he stepped out onto the balcony. He was spending about two weeks with James and Taylor before he had to return to America – his Aunt had him on a very tight leash.

"Emilia! It's lovely to see you again," James exclaimed happily, following his little half-brother out to give his guest a quick hug.

James and Frank were quite different to each other. Frank was younger, in his early twenties, whilst James was thirty-six, about half a dozen years older than his new wife. Frank had golden sun-kissed hair, whilst James' was darker, and prematurely quite grey. Frank had blue-green eyes, James had brown. James was much more of a father figure to his little brother, and he seemed to almost baby him, but Frank certainly wasn't complaining. He looked like most of his life someone or other had been babying him.

"We just played this awful game called badminton. Something about bonding, I don't know, the ball looked like the rear end of some poor bird," Frank announced, leaning over and stealing a mouthful of Emilia's iced tea. She pretended to look affronted, but he only patted her hair in way of apology. She rolled her pale eyes and grinned.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Taylor asked her husband with sparkling dark eyes filled with love for him. He mirrored her expression.

"I had fun – I don't know about my little brother. He seemed resigned to hate the entire sport," he answered, throwing his brother a playful grin.

"Hey, give me a tennis racket and I could wipe the floor of you, but _no one_ could his that feathered thing with such a pathetically small, long necked toy," he retorted merrily.

"You play?" Emilia questioned with a raised brow.

"I'm not exactly entering into Wimbledon, but I can manage," he replied, throwing her a grin.

"Well I'll have to embarrass you then. I play a bit better than 'manageably', _plus_ my racket is pink," she challenged.

"Oh really? Well, my dear Miss Woodhouse, looks like you've got yourself a partner," he declared with a mock bow. Emilia resisted the urge to laugh, and attempted to look solemn.

"I suppose I'll make do with you – George can't even hold his racket properly," she replied, tossing a lock of pale hair over her shoulder. "Speaking of which, I should be off. I need to pick him up from the airport," she announced, glancing at her watch.

"You're leaving me already?" Taylor exclaimed sadly. She laughed at her friend's melodramatic response.

"Sorry hun, but I can't leave George all alone," she apologised.

"Who's 'George'?" Frank asked curiously.

"He's a friend of mine; we live in the same building. He's known me since I was the size of your fingernail and floating in my mother's stomach," she answered, picking up her purse. Frank grinned.

"Good, I'd love to make friends. I'll come with," he suggested, clapping his hands together eagerly. Emilia couldn't help but laugh.

"Are you sure? He can be a little abrasive when he's just spent fourteen hours on a plane," she threatened. Frank rolled his eyes and brushed her off with a wave of his hand.

"We'll get along great, I bet," he assured her.

"Alright then, come with me and we'll all grab something to eat together," she decided.

Taylor sent her a curious glance, before she looked up to her husband, who was staring between the two with a rapidly growing smile as if he were seeing dots connect before him. Emilia knew _exactly_ what he was thinking, and she couldn't help but think he was right. They _did_ suit each other.

She learnt more about Frank on the drive over to the airport. He shared the same father as James (who had died a few years ago) and his mother had passed away of cancer before he was old enough to remember her, and he went into the care of his mother's family in Boston. Out of gratitude for their hospitality he had taken their name, but Emilia suspected it was really for money. He was in line to inherit quite a bit.

"She's pretty strict, my Aunt," he informed her. "She wants what's best for me, so she tends to… control a lot about my life. She's got very strict rules on who I can and can't be friends with, who's on the definite black list for dates, but like I said, she just wants what's best for me," he explained with a shrug.

"So she has a long list of requirements for your 'future bride', huh?" she asked teasingly. He rolled his eyes.

"Not requirements – candidates," he answered. "I mean, I wouldn't go so far as to say an arranged marriage, because that's just crazy, but she's pretty strict on the issue," he added.

"I'm not sure, a very good friend of mine was almost a victim of one," she informed him wisely. His brows rose in surprise.

"_Seriously_? I thought they were extinct in Western culture," he replied.

"Her family were very over controlling, they moved here from Australia and a few months later she found herself being pressured into an engagement with a guy she hardly knew," she explained.

"How did it end?" Frank questioned doubtfully.

"Well, she ended up getting a separation from her parents, and she was adopted by Howl and Toni Llewellyn. She's still with the guy that everyone was pressuring her to marry, too, by the way," she answered factually.

"Wait, was this the stunning little brunette at the party last night?" he asked with a slight frown. She nodded.

"The very same. The guy she was making out with the whole night is her partner, Will Darcy. They're a nauseatingly loving couple," she informed him.

"Wow. This is a rather strange country," he muttered. She couldn't help but laugh.

"We won't go into politics now, but you _have_ to be kidding me," she replied with a slight shake of her head. He rolled his eyes.

"I'm only half American, you know," he pointed out.

"Good for you. I'm only half English," she quipped. "French, on my mother's side," she informed him, when he raised a brow.

"Ah. Does your Mum spend a lot of time in France?" he questioned curiously as she parked the car. She pulled the keys out of the ignition and pretended she hadn't heard him. She could see him about to repose the question, before the intervened.

"I love airports. I love seeing people reunite with their friends and family, it's always very cute," she mused aloud. Frank laughed, and ran a hand through his pale hair.

"You're a funny one, Emilia Woodhouse," he commented. She beamed, as if this were a compliment.

"I think his plane would have landed by now. Normally he has a jet that he uses, but it's a bit difficult for him to get clearance these days, what with all those terrorism threats," she informed him factually as they headed out of the carpark.

"Ahh… so is he old money or new money?" Frank asked curiously.

"Well his Dad is practically royalty, so to start off it was old, but he runs a publishing and production company which brings in the new stuff," she explained. "But he doesn't really care about money all that much. Other than buying Xbox games, that is," she added with a laugh.

"Sounds like my kind of man."

"Sorry, he's straight. And I doubt Howl would like that you moved on from him so quickly," she smirked. Frank couldn't help but laugh.

"Are you _ever_ going to let me forget that?" he asked as they found themselves in the terminal.

"Nup!" she replied happily, pulling open her purse. She rifled through its contents before finding a folded up sheet of paper. She opened it up and instantly held it above her head in the busy room full of people.

"_Big Daddy_? Are you kidding me?" Frank questioned doubtfully, glancing up at her sign. She grinned.

"It's a private joke," she assured him. He nodded, and stepped a little away from her, pretending he was searching around for someone himself, but his eyes were twinkling merrily, revealing his jest.

"I totally don't know you," he hissed.

"And I don't know you."

"Harty-har-har."

"Seriously, why are you talking to me?" she questioned teasingly. He rolled his eyes, and stared in the opposite direction, distancing himself a little further from her. "Normally he has a sign too, so look out for something that says 'Baby-Cakes', or – _oof_!" she cried loudly as someone grabbed her around the waist and tossed her over their shoulder. She started laughing and hitting George's back with full force. "George! I'm wearing a skirt!" she cried out between giggles.

"No one can see your knickers, sunshine, and you deserve it for holding up that horrible sign," he laughed, swinging her back off his shoulder and around to face him, so her legs were wrapped around his middle and her arms around his neck.

People around them stared curiously, some whispering and making lewd comments, others cooing and jealously wishing that they had someone to pull them into such a happy embrace on their return, but neither of them cared about the reactions of those around them.

"Hi."

"Hi," she returned, mirroring his broad grin. She leant forwards and pressed a kiss on the end of his nose. "Missed you," she informed him simply.

"I missed you too," he reciprocated, pressing a kiss on the end of her nose in return.

"Alright, so you're never leaving England again, full stop, end of story," she decided firmly. He laughed.

"Alright, and in six months we'll ignore America and build a fort instead," he suggested.

"Good plan. Oh, and you suck for not telling me that Antoinette is pregnant," she added sternly, well aware that she probably looked like an idiot, standing in the middle of an airport with her legs wrapped around some guy's waist. He sniggered.

"I only did it because I knew you would give them the _worst_ suggestions for baby names," he returned.

"Well, I think Howl really _did_ like 'Ralph', but then he worked out that I meant Ralph _Fiennes_ and he insisted that no child of his will be named after Voldemort," she sighed.

"Did you do your 'Ralph Fiennes is _fine_' dance? That might have convinced him," he pointed out, holding back laughter.

"Yeah, but then some random drunk joined in and it just wasn't fun anymore. I mean, any man that grabs his groin whilst screaming that another man is hot is only funny for a few seconds," she sighed dramatically. She felt his chuckle reverberate around her entire body, and it filled her with a sense of contentedness. She held him a little closer, breathing in his scent. "Never leave me again, okay?" she requested. She felt him smile as he stroked her curly blonde locks.

"You can come to America with me next time, alright?"

"Good plan."

"You do realise that from a distance, it looks like you have this crazy blonde growth sticking out of – oh wow, hmm, it's just you, Em," a thoughtful voice observed. Emilia laughed as she slid out of George's arms.

"Shutup, wench," she retorted playfully. George's eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the man before him. "This is Frank Churchill, James' little brother. We met last night at Antoinette's party," she informed him. "Frank, this is George Knightley, my bitch."

"Your bitch? What does that make me?" Frank returned. She rolled her pale eyes.

"I told you already, you're my wench. Alright bitch, wench, we need to go find food, my stomach is weeping," she answered, fixing a happy grin on her perfect lips. George was glaring at the young man before him intensely, but Frank didn't seem to be perturbed. He glanced between the two and stepped back slightly.

"Need some help with your bags, George?" he offered kindly, gesturing towards the large black wheeled suitcase, a brown leather sports bag and matching case for his laptop and technical equipment.

"I've got it, Gigi!" Emilia cried instantly, picking up the laptop case and swinging it over her shoulder to begin with. Next she gripped the handle to the black wheelie bag, before she attempted to pick up the sports bag. With a whimper, she put it back on the ground and glared at it. "Bastard," she accused it with annoyance. Frank laughed heartily.

"I've got it, Emi," George assured her with a small smile in her direction, and a fiery glare in Frank's. He grabbed the sports bag with one hand and took the handle of the suitcase with the other, allowing her to keep a single shred of her dignity by leaving the laptop case in her custody. Emilia walked between them with her arm linked with George's, her head against his bicep.

"I was so _bored_ without you, I ate dinner with my Dad every night because I couldn't bear to call up for takeaway without you," she declared.

"So it's Jake, right?" Frank questioned suddenly.

"It's _George_, actually," he returned coolly, glancing over Emilia's head to glare at the younger man, who laughed.

"Oh yeah. Hey, I think we might just have a mutual acquaintance. You wouldn't happen to have an ex-wife called Jane, would you?" he questioned suddenly. Emilia felt George tense immediately.

"_What_?" he exclaimed, slowing his pace.

"Or fiancée? Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure it was a fiancée, called Jane. Jane Fairfax," he corrected himself, before laughing. "Wow, this is such a small world. I met Jane in America, nice girl, a little cold, and I think she mentioned you," he explained. George clenched his jaw and stared straight ahead, continuing his pace.

"Yes, not that it's any of your business," he muttered sharply.

"So why did you break up anyway?" he questioned.

"Personal reasons," George snapped coldly, before tilting his head down to Emilia. "I didn't order takeout either. I ate at the hotel restaurant with associates every night," he said to her. She beamed.

"I tried to watch _Harry Potter_."

"Yeah?"

"I couldn't do it without you! It was just unbearable without all those little comments you were making about Snape and Harry," she explained sadly.

"So are you two ultra-tight or something?" Frank questioned, interrupting their reunion. George sent him a cool scowl.

"I guess you could say that," he returned stiffly.

"Ever dated?" he asked curiously. George gave a small, forced laugh.

"I'm sorry, and _how_ is that your business?" he snapped, the false humour gone. Frank shrugged, and gave a good-natured grin.

"I guess not then."

"So… umm, did you meet the President?" Emilia asked suddenly, turning back up to George. His smile returned.

"I think you're overestimating how important I am," he laughed.

"Nup. See, in _my_ mind –"

"What part of America were you in?" Frank interrupted.

"LA," George answered, before returning his gaze to his petit companion. "The President is a little higher up in the food chain than I am. But I _did_ see –"

"I love California. Some of the best beaches I've ever seen – although, some of the Australasian Islands were pretty gorgeous, ever been to New Caledonia, _George_?" Frank continued.

"- As I was saying, _Em_, I did happen to see your most _favourite_ person in the world, Miley Cirus," he teased, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as she made a retching sound.

"Ew! I hope you threw something at her!"

"Didn't have anything handy, but I'll keep that in mind," he assured her, before reaching over and running one of her stray curls through his fingers. "Did you get a haircut?" he enquired curiously.

"Just a little trim."

"I thought you said you were going to dye your hair pink the next time you walked into a hairdresser," he reminded her.

"Yeah, it was much less of a hairdresser and much more a case of Eli and I watching your old black and white film box set with a pair of sewing scissors handy," she explained with a shrug.

"So George, you got any family in England?" Frank enquired suddenly.

"My mother lives in New York, but I have a former step-brother and two nephews who live in Kent half the year, and America for the rest," he answered, his tone growing with agitation.

"And what about your Daddy then?"

"I wouldn't know, and I don't particularly care," he snapped. "Exactly how long will you be staying in England for, _Frank_?" he asked curtly.

"Oh, two weeks I suppose, maybe more, if I'm lucky," he replied, brushing the question off.

"Two weeks isn't a long time, I'm sure your brother wants to take advantage of every second he can get alone with you," he said pointedly. Frank laughed.

"Perhaps. I dunno, I'm quite attached to this new friend of mine," he declared, ruffling Emilia's blonde locks playfully.

"Well I think you might have a little competition there," George snapped. Emilia glanced up as something unspoken seemed to pass between the two men. Sort of like… a subliminal message that only those with testosterone could understand.

"So, umm… what do you feel like eating, George?" she questioned, shifting the topic of subject, and hopefully some of the hostility, along.

"Whatever you want, bub."

"You two have some pretty cute nicknames for each other," Frank observed. "So far I've heard 'Big Daddy, Gigi, Baby-Cakes, Bub, Love, Emi and Em'," he listed thoughtfully.

"Oh! I meant to ask you, how did you go with the handcuffs through customs?" Emilia asked playfully, glancing back up to George, who grinned.

"Those clients thought I was a pervert, they refused to do the pitch," he laughed.

"Well that's always positive," she grinned in reply. "I think pizza tonight, what do you say?" she asked curiously.

"Pizza sounds good."

"Mind if I crash your party?" Frank questioned. It looked like George was about to respond with a very resolute '_yes_', before Emilia interrupted.

"You can sit in on the pizza, but we have a very sacred ritual involving a movie and whatever strange lollies George brought back from America that's a member's only thing," she explained quite seriously. Frank raised a brow in curiosity.

"And what club would that be?" he laughed.

"A secret club. Even the name is too secret for us to tell," she assured him.

"Do you have jackets?"

"No, boxers. Otherwise everyone could see the name," she explained. Frank laughed.

"Wow, normally I have to know a girl for more than twenty-four hours before she tells me what knickers she's wearing," he grinned.

"Yeah, Frank, I'm totally wearing boxers right now. That's why I'm wearing a skirt," she replied sarcastically. Frank made a show of looking at her backside very obviously.

"Well, I can't tell what underwear you've got on, but I _can_ say that you have a _lovely _–"

"I don't know how you do it in America, but _here_ we don't regularly discuss women's assets when the woman herself is present," George informed him curtly. Frank laughed.

"A club rule?"

"No, manners."

"Okay, so why don't we go get pizza and we can drop off Frank on our way home?" Emilia suggested, attempting to break the tension when they approached her car.

"Sounds fine to me," Frank said cheerfully, popping the boot when Emilia unlocked the car.

"Whatever," George muttered, lifting his suitcase and sliding it into the boot, throwing his sports bag in too. Frank climbed into the backseat as George slammed the boot door down.

"Hey," Emilia greeted, turning to him with a small smile. "Did I tell you that I missed you?" she questioned. George allowed a smile to slide onto his face.

"Yes, but I could hear you say it again," he replied, pulling her into a short hug. She sighed against his chest.

"Never go away again," she requested softly, releasing him from her grip.

"Of course not," he promised, ruffling her pale curls. "Oh, and I'm driving," he added.

"You've probably forgotten how to drive in this country though!" she exclaimed.

"Don't care, I'm driving," he insisted. Her eyes twinkled playfully.

"Only if you can get the keys," she returned, holding them teasingly out in front of her on the palm of her opened hand. George lunged for them but missed. Laughing, he allowed her to steady her hand once more, before he smacked it upwards from beneath, her keys flying up into the air, where he caught them with ease. "How did you _do_ that?" she exclaimed.

"I'm the shit – I can do anything," he informed her simply, walking over to the driver's seat with a very smug grin. Emilia rolled her eyes and contented herself with the passenger's seat.

"So this club of yours, how exclusive is it?" Frank asked curiously a little while later as they sat in a familiar (for George and Emilia) booth in a local pizza place.

"_Very_," Emilia assured him, after lowering her slice. "George and I are the only members. I've known Taylor for _years_ and she's not even a member," she added.

"So how would one become a member?" he questioned with a raised brow.

"You can't. It's a two person club," George informed him with slight coolness, before taking a sip of coke.

"So there can only ever be two members?"

"Yep," he replied simply.

"So what if someone replaced another member? _Then_ they could get in, right?" he suggested thoughtfully. George sent him a suspicious glare.

"No. Because you'd never be able to get one of us to leave the club," he reasoned. Frank laughed.

"Well Emilia and I will have to start our own club. We have lots in common, plenty to work with," he declared. "Now, why don't we make the 'half-English people' club?" he suggested. She rolled her eyes.

"But George is _full_ English, and I don't like making clubs that he can't be a part of," she explained. Frank rolled his eyes.

"He can handle it," he assured her. "We were talking about that before we picked you up, you know, George. You're half French, right?" he questioned, turning to Emilia once more.

"Yeah, on my mother's side. My cousin, Antoinette, she was born and raised in the centre of Paris, but she moved here when she was about sixteen," she informed him.

"And does your Mum spend a lot of time there?" he asked curiously. Emilia shifted in slight discomfort, and George sent Frank a furious glare.

"She's buried there, so I guess so," she shrugged finally.

"Ohh… damn, sorry, I didn't know," he apologised. "Maybe I shouldn't have said anything," he muttered.

"Yeah, maybe that would have been best," George snapped angrily, before turning back to his companion, who had grown silent. He gently rubbed her back in a comforting motion.

"It's okay Frank, you didn't know," she assured him with a small smile. "And it's alright, I mean, it was four years ago," she added with a shrug.

"Four years? You would have been about seventeen?" he questioned. She nodded.

"Yep. But I had my club to get me through it," she laughed, giving George a quick hug, before swiping his coke. He laughed, but didn't chastise her. "That's why you can't replace a club member, you need to have gone through a lot of shit with the other member to qualify," she explained.

"Well, I think I'll start my own club," he declared.

"You also can't be a member of two clubs," George added, glancing over to Emilia, who had returned to her pizza.

"That's quite alright, George," Frank replied. "Maybe I'll start a 'spurned lovers' club. I hear a new member will be pulling into town next week," he suggested thoughtfully. George visibly tensed, but didn't reply, only turned back to his petit companion in silence.

Frank was dropped off a little while later before Emilia and George returned to the apartment building. They headed straight into George's flat, dumping his suitcases and saving the unpacking for later. George checked his messages as Emilia pulled the exotic American lollies from his suitcase and made coffee, before he tiredly collapsed on his couch.

"Hmm, not up for a movie then?" she teased, peering over the couch to see his prostrate body.

"Nup. I'm in the wrong time-zone," he sighed, sneaking an eye open. "Ahh… _coffee_," he exclaimed happily, reaching for the cup bearing caffeine with eager hands. He groaned as he sipped it. "The coffee in America is shit. They drown out the taste with all sorts of weird things," he informed her.

"Yeah, well nothing beats Emilia's Awesome… errr, I think I'll have to work on a title," she said thoughtfully. George chuckled.

"So how was the party?" he inquired tiredly.

"It was good, Haley really hit it off with Elton Phillips," she replied with a shrug.

"Elton Phillips? With Luna Lovegood?" he questioned in surprise as she sat down on the edge of the couch.

"Yeah, I had a suspicion they would be cute together, but I didn't know if she still liked that Bobby Martin guy, so I didn't really want to be that pushy," she explained with a shrug. "But she loved him. It was so great, she was talking about him all night," she laughed.

"And what about Bobby?" George questioned warily, raising a brow as he sat up.

"Well apparently he asked her out," she admitted.

"And?"

"Well, she said no," she answered simply. George's eyes widened in surprise.

"She said _no_? How could _she_ say no to _him_?" he exclaimed in complete shock. Emilia frowned.

"Yeah, because a girl is supposed to say yes to every guy that asks her out in thanks for the man's effort in condescending to make the request," she snapped sarcastically. George ran a hand through his dark hair in frustration.

"Bobby really liked her – and he was _certain_ that she liked him too!" he cried.

"Well Haley likes someone else now, is that so bad?" she questioned with offence.

"_Yes_, it's bad, because Bobby is going to be heartbroken, and Elton isn't going to give a damn about her!" he retorted. "Are you _sure_ that she said no?" he questioned angrily. She nodded.

"Yes! She definitely said no!"

"Did she ask you your – you _told_ her to say no, didn't you!" he exclaimed suddenly. "You _told_ her to go for Elton and reject Bobby, despite the fact that I told you not to get involved!" he cried.

"I didn't, but even if I had it wouldn't matter, she likes Elton and that's _that_," she snapped.

"Jesus Christ Emilia, you can be so selfish sometimes!" George exclaimed, standing up immediately. "You didn't take into account anyone's feelings in this, you just went ahead and acted to suit your own sick purposes – this little 'matchmaking' game you keep playing is only causing others hurt and pain!" he cried angrily.

"I didn't do _anything_, George, other than give the girl a bit of a makeover and introduce her to a few people! I've done my best not to influence her opinions, she _chose_ to say no to Bobby all on her own, you can't blame me for that!" she objected.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you? You play with people's lives like they don't matter, you let some stupid little fop trail around on your arm like some stupid puppy, these are _people_, not puppets!" he snapped. Emilia scowled and rose to her feet.

"Whatever, George, I didn't do _anything_. Elton seemed to like Haley and I _know_ she likes him, whatever happens is out of my hands. I don't know what's up your arse today but I think you should go get it removed," she finished curtly, snatching up her purse and storming out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

George sighed sadly when she left. He had just been so _angry_, what with that little blonde haired brat earlier, he hadn't wanted to share his reunion with _anyone_ and the fop had to come along and ruin it all. He wished he hadn't snapped at her – but he was too tired. She just needed to cool off before he apologised.

~ * ~

George opened his eyes slowly, his pupils adjusting to the darkness surrounding him. The door was opened in his bedroom, and light from the hallway was spilling in, outlining a familiar figure.

"Em? What are you doing here?" he muttered in tired question. She flicked off the light and tiptoed to his bed as he turned on the lamp, which gently illuminated his bedroom. She wore a pink lace camisole and tiny satin shorts that barely covered her underwear. Her blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and she had a rather upset expression on her beautiful face.

"I – I couldn't sleep," she muttered, shifting nervously before him. "I'm sorry about today. I didn't mean to – I _hate_ fighting with you," she managed to get out, her words filled with guilt. George sighed, and shifted slightly, pulling the sheets down.

"Come on, you look cold," he sighed. She slid into bed beside him, instantly settling with her back against his chest. "I'm sorry too," he admitted tiredly.

"I don't want us to be enemies," she said softly. He shushed her gently, and ran his hand slowly up and down the length of her beautiful porcelain arm. He had almost forgotten what it was like to have a warm, soft and sweet smelling body beside him in his bed.

"We'll never be enemies, love. Not you and I," he assured her. "Try to get some sleep, for me?" he requested. She sighed.

"I'm glad you're home," she muttered sleepily. He smiled.

"So am I, Emi. I'm very glad," he replied, before leaning over, and flicking the lamp off.

Her body fit perfectly against his, and it wasn't long before their heartbeats became in sync with each other. He brushed a stray blonde curl back and pressed a light kiss to her uncovered shoulder. She shifted in her sleep against him as he pulled the blankets up a little higher, holding her as closely as he dared to without disturbing her slumber.

It wasn't exactly what usually happened in his fantasies of Emilia coming into his bed late at night, but he didn't care, all that mattered was that she was there. He wanted to pretend, just for one night, that she wasn't just his best friend, and that their special 'members only' club was more than just a little game they used to play, but a bond between lovers. He wanted to make believe that she was _his_, finally.

As he fell into sleep, he couldn't help but wonder if that really was so bad, to want such a thing.

"I love you, Em," he murmured very, very quietly to the night.

He heard no reply.

**A/N: I wasn't going to update today, but it's HawkAngel XD's birthday today! This won't be a usual practise, but she's so sweet and such a diligent reviewer, and I hope she has a really awesome day today!**


	10. Of John, Yoko and Evita

"I love Sundays," Emilia sighed happily, rolling over in bed and stretching her arms out like a lazy cat.

"Hmm… Em… ma… sleep now…" George murmured, shifting slightly as he tugged the blankets back up to cover his body. Emilia rolled her eyes, and poked him in the belly. He groaned and pulled his legs forwards into a foetal position, as if to defend himself.

"Are you seriously going to stay in bed all day?" she questioned doubtfully.

"Why not? We can be John and Yoko," he managed to mumble out.

"Well… hey, why not," she sighed happily, snuggling back beneath the blankets. George lazily wrapped an arm around her, pulling her gently to his chest. From her position she could stare out the window and watch little pieces of lint float in the air, cast gold by the morning sun shining brightly through the windows. "Hmm… you're comfy," she informed him randomly. She felt, rather than heard, a deep chuckle rumbling in his chest.

"Good to know I have a purpose in life," he muttered.

"Yep. My comfort is your purpose," she replied smugly. He rolled his eyes and shifted slightly.

"Quiet now, sleep," he demanded with a yawn. Not half a second after he had spoken, the phone rang, its loud shriek reverberating around the apartment.

"Gonna answer it?"

"Nope," he replied simply, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. "I refuse to answer it. Whoever it is can leave a message," he snapped.

"_Hey George, it's Tay, I just wanted to check up on you, you didn't call when you got back from America! Frank said he met you yesterday, isn't he just the greatest guy? I think he and Emi will really hit it off. Well anyway, next weekend we were all going to have a dinner party together, you know, to celebrate the fact that he's finally come to visit. Oh, and Jane Fairfax will be there too, she's coming back from America, but I guess you already knew that. So give me a call, and I hope you had fun in LA_!"

Emilia felt George slowly tense as the message continued, until he was almost crushing her with his tight grip.

"Umm, George? Could you loosen up a little?" she croaked out.

"What? Oh," he muttered, slacking his grip. "So I guess we'll be seeing more of this Frank Churchill," he declared bitterly, sitting up in bed and running his hands through his dark hair.

"I like him. I mean, he was a little hostile to _you_, but I'm not sure why. He's quite funny though," she replied, sitting up beside him. He scowled.

"Not thinking of setting yourself up, are you?" he questioned with great irritation.

"I'm not sure. I don't really know many single people who would suit him, so maybe I am," she shrugged simply. That seemed to only annoy him.

"Sure you want to spend today with _me_? Why don't you two go on a date or something?" he suggested curtly. She blinked in surprise.

"Because it's _Sunday_, and you only just got back from LA. I let you go for two weeks, Frank Churchill or not, I'm spending today with you," she assured him firmly. He nodded in acceptance.

"Good. I don't trust him," he said quietly. Emilia raised a brow.

"Well I like him. He's very charming, so I guess you'll just have to put up with him," she returned with a shrug. He rolled his dark eyes.

"Whatever. Are you hungry?" he questioned, sliding out of bed.

"What happened to John and Yoko?"

"John died," he snapped, walking right out of the bedroom without a second glance back at her.

~ * ~

Despite George's obvious distain for Frank, Emilia continued to see him. On Monday he came into the office and they had lunch together with Haley, who spent the entire time babbling on about how wonderful Elton Phillips was and about how handsome she found him, before she had dinner with Taylor, James and he at the end of the day.

She really did find him quite funny and charming, and he made it perfectly clear that he liked her too. He was always complimenting her in the little ways that George didn't seem to find necessary, and she couldn't help but feel… _confident_ around him.

Not a vain creature, normally, having grown up with George constantly assuring her that she was ugly as a baboon's backside, Emilia wouldn't normally advertise a low self-esteem, no one would believe her if she said she was insecure. Not about her looks, but about _everything_ in her life. George didn't make those insecurities go away, but Frank _did_.

"Eli, I really think I'm a horrible person," she muttered miserably to her close friend Tuesday afternoon as they sat in Howl's music room, fiddling around with instruments whilst Eli gave Emilia a singing lesson.

"You're not horrible," she said simply, peering over a piece of sheet music thoughtfully.

"George doesn't like Frank. I'm pretty aware of that – and what with that awful Jane Fairfax coming back to England he really needs my support right now, but Frank just makes me feel… _good_, you know?" she sighed, curiously inspecting a mandolin resting on a black stand.

"You're overreacting. You've only been out with Frank a few times, just as a friends thing, and you spend most of your time when you're not looking after your Dad with George anyway," she shrugged. "He was wrong to go off at you about that whole Haley thing, but he gets really weird about setting people up these days. I think it's because he was set up with Jane," she said thoughtfully. "I thought I'd teach you some riffs on the guitar today, chords are all well and good but –"

"I _like_ chords, and I think you might be right. I didn't realise that this might be upsetting him," she interrupted with a slight frown. "But all I did with Haley was introduce her to someone – it's not _my_ fault that she liked him so much she felt compelled to say no to Bobby. It was _her_ choice, I was trying to be really careful not to influence her," she defended. Eli laughed.

"Haley is a sheep, Em, if you even _glance_ to the left she's going to go left. I know it's sad but there are just some human beings who never do what they really want, they find another human and then they just bleed them dry of their opinions and ideas until they've completely become them," she explained. "Haley will be one of those people. I don't think there's much you can do but back away. You need to bow out gracefully from this one," she advised. Emilia rolled her eyes.

"Since when did you get so wise?" she questioned with a raised brow.

"I'm doing a _lot_ of reading, and one of my Professors seems to have a liking of Phycology," she replied with a grin. "Seriously, you don't stick around on a sinking ship. I know that it's still early days but you really should leave her alone," she advised honestly.

"She's still got so far to go! I want her to be more than just an office lackey, I _want_ to give her a promotion, but she's just not that fantastic at her job yet," she explained. "I was actually thinking of training her up as a PA. She's very good at doing what she's told," she added.

"You _can't_ get rid of Nellie, she's the best PA in the world!" Eli exclaimed in shock.

"I wouldn't even _think_ of it, but Nellie has a lot of family problems right now. And I think she's seeing someone, too," she added, her pale eyes sparkling brightly. Eli raised a brow curiously.

"Who?"

"She's mentioned this guy called Edward. I really think she likes him," she answered with a grin. "And I'm not getting rid of her. I just think that sooner or later she's going to need to take some time off to be with her Mum and sisters, and I'll need to have a substitute there. When Haley gets the hang of the job we'll have a look around to see if there's somewhere where she'll fit in more," she explained considerately. Eli raised a brow accusingly.

"George is right. You're turning crazy," she sighed, turning back to the piano.

"Hey! I am _not_ crazy!" Emilia objected laughingly, sticking her tongue out at her friend.

"Grab that guitar and sit down, crazy people tend to make good musicians," she instructed. Eli squealed loudly as her companion leant forwards and instantly began tickling her as punishment for her lies, almost falling off the chair as her body shook with laughter. The door to the music room opened and a familiar face was stuck in, pausing their activities.

"Hi," Howl greeted with a hint of accusation in his voice.

"Sorry, Nada, we'll keep it down," Eli sniggered, shifting so she wasn't half an inch away from falling to the floor.

"That's my girl," he replied with a grin, before nodding to Emilia and ducking out of the room.

"So when do you think they're going to tell me their big secret?" Eli asked thoughtfully when he had gone.

"Well pretty soon you'll be able to work it out yourself," Emilia shrugged, concealing her grin. "Why don't you just do the creepy 'gifted kid' thing and work it out yourself?" she questioned suddenly.

"Oh, Howl asked me to stop doing that, he says it spoils the surprise," she answered with a thoughtful frown. "I _could_ though…" she muttered.

"Don't, just wait a little longer; it'll totally be worth it!" Emilia urged. She sighed, and spun back around to face the piano.

"Man, I _hate_ surprises," she said dismally. "Alright then, come on, let's run through some scales," she declared, fingers at the ready. Emilia took a deep, steadying breath that was almost ruined by her smile.

She _knew_ that Eli would be _so_ excited to hear the news, but she had to admit, it was a _little_ funny that she hadn't worked it out yet.

~ * ~

William Darcy missed music.

He missed it more than he could understand. He had been so busy at University, and then jumping into his father's company as he had always wished for him, and what with the renovations at Pemberley to have the Performing Arts school started up in a year's time he had such little time to play a few notes on his piano or even a little time for his violin.

He missed his music and he couldn't help but feel jealous that Eli was studying it and performing it in a real theatre. Music had always been a private thing for him, he had never desired to share it with anyone before _she_ came along, and now he wanted to share it with the world.

"What did you think?" she asked with a 1000 watt smile as she climbed down from the stage in rehearsals for the theatre's production of _Evita_, which would open in a few months.

"You were wonderful," he praised, covering his jealousy up with affection, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

"Will, I was in the chorus, you couldn't even hear me," she laughed teasingly, poking his stomach whilst arching a playful grin.

"I could. But the girl behind you was flat the whole song, and the guy in the front row was far too nasally," he informed her, glancing accusingly at the rest of the chorus as if they had tainted her performance. "You shouldn't be in the chorus. You should be singing lead, Elizabeth, you're too talented for this," he said firmly.

"Will, it's up to the director who sings lead. And rumour has it in a few months there's going to be a spot, we think the principle soprano is pregnant," she added in a quiet whisper.

"That doesn't matter. Eli, you have a crystal voice and if the director could just _hear_ you sing solo I _know_ he'll see how brilliant you are," he responded, pushing a strand of her dark hair back from her eyes insistently.

"Same to you, but you refuse to audition," she threw back teasingly. He rolled his eyes.

"_You_ belong in the theatre, Elizabeth, I'm perfectly content to watch from the sidelines," he said, before leaning forwards and pressing a light kiss to her lips. She grinned against his mouth.

"Well, I'll break you down eventually," she laughed. "I need to get back to rehearsals. Love you," she finished, giving him a short kiss before rushing back upstage.

Will sighed quietly. He had lied.

He _wasn't_ content to sit at the sidelines.

~ * ~

"How do I look, Miss Woodhouse?" Haley questioned nervously, stepping out of Emilia's walk-in wardrobe with an anxious expression. She wore a burgundy satin waist-high skirt and a lacy white blouse with black heels, her long blonde hair trailing down her waist.

"That looks wonderful, Haley," Emilia smiled sincerely. Haley glanced in the full-length mirror on the wall and let out an angry huff before disappearing back into the wardrobe. Emilia sighed and fell back on her grand bed, wondering exactly what she had started.

Ever since Haley discovered that Elton Phillips would be at Taylor and James' party she had gone into a frenzy to prepare. When she wasn't sleeping her ridiculous fourteen hours a day she was scouring shops for the 'perfect' outfit, but had found nothing, so was resorting to pilfering through Emilia's wardrobe to find something at the last minute.

Emilia sat up and decided to fix her hair and makeup whilst she waited for Haley to find the next outfit. She was quite surprised how quickly the girl had taken to fashion, makeup and men. She was almost _hungry_ for attention and beauty. In one respect she was rather proud that Haley had developed confidence in such a short period of time, but not to such an extent… she was _greedy_ for a new life.

"Well? What about this, Miss Woodhouse?" Haley questioned sharply, bounding out of the wardrobe for the sixth time.

"Wow. Haley, that's just – _wow_," she exclaimed. She _did_ look stunning in a tight metallic sheath dress with matching silver pumps. "Silver _really_ suits you. I love it," she praised eagerly, pasting her best smile onto her perfect lips. Haley sighed as she looked in the mirror, and slowly turned around, inspecting her reflection.

"I'm hideous," she bemoaned suddenly.

"No! Haley, you're gorgeous!" Emilia objected immediately. Haley turned, her hazel eyes quivering with hope.

"Really, Miss Woodhouse?" she asked timidly. She beamed in response.

"Yes. Definitely, you look fantastic," she assured her. Haley allowed a broad grin to take over her features. "Now I need to go find something, I'll only be a minute," she assured her, ducking into the wardrobe.

"Em, what time does this ridiculous – Oh. Hi, Luna," George greeted with a hint of moroseness as he stepped into Emilia's bedroom. He glanced around in search of his little blonde haired companion, but she was seemingly invisible. He hesitated, and turned back to Haley. "Wow. Shit, you look nice," he complimented in complete surprise. Haley blinked.

"You're Miss Woodhouse's friend," she stated slowly. George nervously shifted his weight from one foot to another.

"Yeah. Is Emilia in here? I need to ask her something," he replied hastily.

"I'm in here," he heard her announce, as she stepped out of the wardrobe. "Can you do this up at the back, George? I can't reach, it's too low," she requested.

George was without words. She was a beauty. She wore a thin, gauzy pale pink dress made from a very fine silk that danced a few inches above her knees and tightened over her hips and waist. It had a high front with a few black lace ruffles here and there, but the front bodice was thin and gauzy, the outline of her breasts perfectly clear, and frustratingly tempting. Her hair had been pulled back into a loose little tie with a little black clip and she wore elegant black satin and lace heels to complete the ensemble. When she turned he could see her predicament, instead of a back there seemed to be several chains coated in black paint that crisscrossed over her back, but needed to be clipped to meet each other at the base of her uncovered spine.

All in all it was _hot_. He had never seen her look so sexy, and something within him was bitterly cursing Frank Churchill for being the reason behind her appearance that night.

But it didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the view.

"I can see your tits," he informed her quite un-delicately as he stepped behind her to do up the little chains. He felt, rather than saw her roll her eyes.

"No you can't. You can _almost_ see them," she corrected. He rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. I can _almost_ see your tits," he retorted, gently, ever so gently running his hand along the chain as he pretended to untangle it. The feel of her impossibly smooth skin against his fingers was the most beautiful torture he had ever experienced.

"Hmm. So eloquent this evening."

"You had better find a jumper – you're not leaving this room dressed like _that_," he said warningly.

"I was going to get a shawl anyway – and what do you care? You can't see anything, I got skin coloured masking tape," she retorted pointedly.

"I _care_ because I don't want the entire world staring at your chest all night!" he insisted angrily.

"What, and women don't stare at you?" she threw back rhetorically.

"That's different."

"Well what about when you're doing your mucho-man thing? Taking your shirt off and nailing up drywall or something like that?" she questioned. George practically grit his teeth in anger.

"Fine. You want to advertise yourself all night? Whatever. Why don't you just go naked?" he proposed sarcastically.

"Because it's a cold night, George, and I don't feel up to the show," she finished simply.

"Miss Woodhouse, I think I need to change. I look hideous next to you," Haley sulked.

"You look gorgeous, Luna, Em just looks easy," he announced, hearing her giggle in response to certify that she was assured. "There. You're done," he informed Emilia coolly, stepping back from her form reluctantly.

"Thanks," she muttered bitterly, instantly crossing the room to her dresser where she picked up a small container of facial powder. He frowned to note that her eyes were slightly red-rimmed. Had they been like that a minute ago? "I'll just be a second. I've got a little hay fever, it's been bothering me all day," she practically sniffled.

"Then close those balcony doors, it's spring, for goodness sake," he retorted, crossing the room and pulling the large French doors shut. He turned back to see her finishing up her makeup routine. "I wanted to ask, how long will this dinner go for?" he questioned, stepping behind her and placing his hand on her bare shoulder. She winced slightly, but he hardly noticed it.

"Well if you really don't want to you then you don't have to, George, I won't force you," she replied with slight snappishness, immediately rising from her chair and grabbing a pale-pink silk and black lace shawl to match her dress. She wrapped it around her shoulders and picked up her purse in silence.

"Hmm. A few days ago that wasn't the attitude you had," he pointed out, digging his hands into his pockets.

"Well I'm sorry if I seemed a little pushy. I'm going, Haley is going, you can come too if you like, but keep your complaints to yourself, it was your decision," she retorted, practically storming out of her bedroom.

"Luna, is she okay?" he questioned frowningly, glancing over to his silent companion.

"Huh?"

"Em. Is she alright?" he rephrased. She blinked stupidly.

"Oh. Maybe, I don't know. I was looking at her ceiling," she shrugged, rising to her feet. She picked up her bag and a shawl before following Emilia out of the bedroom.

George sighed as he was left alone.

Of course he would go. He couldn't leave Emilia alone with that little fop the whole night.

But it didn't mean he had to be _happy_ about it.

**A/N: Ahhh… sorry about the long wait for the next chapter. I'm pretty much updating when I can, I've had so much to do now! I mean, what with work, school, assignments, major works (I'm doing three) and music lessons (a word of advice – **_**never**_** take opera singing lessons! You'll kill yourself with the strain!) I've hardly got a spare minute to write. But it's a really good break from all the stress of my day, so I'm going to keep it up as long as I possibly can. Anyway, so here is the next chapter, and it's got a bit of Will and Eli. I want to put more about them in, but I can't promise anything. **

**Oh, and I just want to say now how wonderful your reviews have all been. I really love seeing the regular readers and hearing their opinions on each chapter (you're all so sweet and too flattering!) and I also love the occasional random review from various readers, members of FFN or not. You make me feel so happy, and they're what keep me going!**

**I love you all ^__^**


	11. Of Dinner and Disaster

"Wow, _someone_ looks hot," Frank declared with a wolf whistle as Emilia, Haley and George walked out onto the balcony of Taylor and James' stylish abode.

"Doesn't she just? Silver really suits her," Emilia beamed, turning to a blushing Haley. Frank blinked, took in the girl, and laughed.

"Actually I meant _you_, Em, but Haley, you're a vision," he assured the younger woman, who's flush only grew brighter. "And you look pretty hot too, George. Been working out?" he questioned innocently, taking in the gentleman before him. George said nothing.

The numbers of males and females were set up to be exactly equal, but as of yet the party was lacking in one more couple and another gentleman to balance it out. On one end of the table sat Ellen, Emilia's assistant, and her beautiful young sister Marianne between two men, Christopher Brandon, a close friend of James', and Daniel Willoughby, a much younger man that had been invited as Marianne's 'plus one'. Both men seemed very much interested in Marianne, too interested to take note of the new arrivals, but unfortunately for Christopher, _she_ was only interested in Danny.

"George! Look who we found!" Taylor said excitedly, rising from her chair at the other end of the table where they had all gathered for the before-dinner pleasantries.

It was Jane Fairfax sitting beside her, and she didn't look too happy to see who had just walked in.

"Hello, George. It's been a while," she greeted, her cheerful tone somewhat forced.

"Jane," he nodded simply, glancing over to Emilia. Jane followed his gaze to watch the blonde laugh at one of Frank's jokes.

"Wow, awkward city here, huh?" Frank exclaimed, upon realising that the rest of the party had fallen silent. "So who else is coming?" he inquired curiously, sticking his hands in his pockets and strolling over to the plate of entrees.

"Well Elton should be here soon, and Will and Eli are coming, but Howl and Toni cancelled, said they felt like a night in," Taylor informed him. "So that means there's more food and alcohol for the rest of us! Isn't that _great_?" she added happily.

"I think _someone_ has already dug into that alcohol," came a laughing voice from the doorway. James strode in with his usual broad smile, and kissed his wife on the cheek. "Are we just waiting on the last few stragglers then?" he questioned pleasantly.

"There's still a few more guests, so why don't you all just take a seat and have a drink," Taylor suggested, urging those assembled to be seated. Haley, Emilia and George took their places – Haley with an empty space beside her (that she was most likely saving for Elton), Emilia beside Frank and George next to Jane.

Taylor lacked subtlety in her seating arrangements.

"So Jane, what have you been doing since we saw you last?" Taylor asked curiously, pouring the new arrivals a glass of wine each.

"I stayed with an old friend of mine in Boston, Jessica Campbell, and I worked with her at a day care centre whilst I was studying at the community college. It was very pleasant," she assured her in her throaty, smooth voice. She pushed a strand of perfect auburn hair behind one slender shoulder and sipped her wine. "But Jessica was recently married, and I felt that it was a sign for me to return to England. I couldn't stay with her and her new husband, it would be ridiculous, so I decided that I would… go back to my roots," she explained elegantly.

"You must be so excited to be back. Everyone has missed you," Taylor pointed out. Jane smiled laughingly.

"It's kind that you think so, but I'm quite sure there are _some_ people who weren't looking forward to my return," she replied, her glance to Emilia so slight that hardly anyone even noticed it.

"A day care centre? That must have been really nice," Emilia ventured with a friendly smile.

"Yes. It was," Jane replied stiffly. Emilia softly chewed on her bottom lip, and attempted another method.

"Frank said you two met in Boston. How did you meet?" she questioned curiously.

"I'm sure Frank has already told you the story. It would be pointless to repeat it," Jane returned.

The heavy silence was broken with the arrival of two more guests, Eli and Darcy – just in the nick of time.

"Sorry we were late, rehearsals ran a little longer than usual today," Eli apologised as Taylor and Emilia rose up to greet her.

"Don't worry about greetings – she's got pretty good news," Darcy interrupted, with the three women started to embrace. Emilia's eyes widened excitedly.

"Oh my _God_! Did Toni and Howl finally tell you?" she exclaimed hurriedly. Eli raised a brow questioningly.

"No… is this about that big secret that _you_ know but I don't and you're not letting me do the creepy gifted kid thing to work it out?" she questioned slowly.

"Uhhh… nope. So what's the news?" she covered up instantly, clasping her friend's hands excitedly.

"Will is overreacting. It's not that important, and it probably won't even affect me," she assured those at the table. "Oh. Hi," she greeted dumbly, staring over to the familiar face. "Jane. Didn't know you were back," she exclaimed.

"I just came in yesterday," Jane replied. "It's nice to see you again, Elizabeth. How have you been?" she asked with a genuine smile.

"Uh, pretty good. Will and I have set a month, so pretty soon we'll be setting a date for the wedding," she replied with a shrug. "Oh alright, I'll tell you!" she assured Emilia laughingly when she started tugging on the edge of her friend's cute little black dress that flattered her perfectly. "The reason why I was late was because the owners of the theatre made an announcement to all cast today. The lead soprano is going to be leaving after we finish '_Evita_'. They're holding open auditions for all cast members in a few months – and… well, I put my name down to try out," she informed her, trying to fight a grin.

Emilia instantly squealed joyfully.

"Oh _Eli_! This is so incredible – you're _so_ going to get it!" she cried.

"Maybe I will, maybe I won't. There are a _lot_ of good singers in the chorus, as well as the second soprano, she'll _definitely _be going for the job, and it makes sense that she get it. Besides, I'm a _lot_ younger than most of the other performers, I don't have the experience," she explained.

"You _will_ get it. You're too talented not to," Darcy assured his partner firmly. Eli laughed.

"I hope so. The performing arts is really all I _can_ do, and I'd love to get a job in it," she sighed hopefully.

"That's ridiculous, you can do lots of other stuff! And anyway, you already _have_ a job in the theatre, but this is so cool! You're _so_ going to get it, I swear," Emilia said insistently. Eli gave her a grateful smile.

"We'll see," she replied simply, glancing around the table. "Ahh… it was Frank, wasn't it?" she questioned with a slight frown, taking in the blonde haired smiling man sitting opposite her.

"Yep. Remember? I walked in on you doing the horizontal tango with – Darcy, right?" he questioned, glancing to Eli's companion, who looked rather annoyed.

"I would not advise you make walking into the bedrooms of girls you don't know without announcing yourself a regular habit," he retorted simply. "And we were _not_ doing what you just implied, not that there's any need to defend myself to you," he added curtly. Frank laughed.

"Come on man, I was just joking. And it was a complete accident that I opened that door, I thought it was the bathroom, I swear," he assured him, raising his hands in playful surrender.

"Oh, do bathrooms in America all have '_Eli's Room_' painted on the door?" he retorted with false innocence.

"Of course. It's been a standard practise since 1866," Frank returned instantly, before flashing a grin to everyone at the table.

"I can only hope you accustom yourself to the culture shock," Darcy drawled sarcastically, before pulling out a chair for his companion to be seated.

"None of my boyfriends ever did that," Haley sulked suddenly, staring with slight jealousy at the couple.

"He's well trained," Eli laughed, reaching for her companion's hand behind the chair and giving it a little squeeze. He smiled, leant over and pressed a kiss to the side of her jaw, before taking a seat beside her. Haley sighed quite audibly.

"Love, would you mind standing up so I can pull out your chair for you?" James questioned his wife with a teasing smile. Taylor rolled her eyes and sipped her champagne.

"I'm too comfortable here, James," she informed him with a small, delighted smile that he had thought to ask. . "Come on, sit down – we're only one guest short now," she instructed.

"How long do you intend to stay in England, Jane?" Emilia dared question. The older woman glanced up at her momentarily.

"I'm not sure at the moment, my plans are indefinite," she answered coolly.

"Uhh… Are you planning on working in another day care centre?" she asked, determined to be polite.

"No. I'll find part-time work somewhere, but I'm going to finish my studies before I find an internship," she replied.

"What are you studying?"

"Medicine."

Emilia raised a brow. She'd heard nothing of Jane studying to be a doctor, it must have been something she started when she went to America.

"I didn't know you were interested in becoming a doctor," George commented in surprise.

Everyone held their breath in silence. Direct communication between the former couple beyond 'hello', 'how are you' and 'good thanks' had taken place right in front of them. Jane lowered her eyes slightly.

"You weren't aware of all of my interests, and I wasn't aware of all of yours," she said with a simple shrug, this time her glance to Emilia a little more lasting, but hardly enough for anyone to think amiss. George's eyes flickered slightly. She had struck a hurtful blow. "I'm particularly looking at paediatrics. That area held some _interest_ to you, didn't it, George?" she continued thoughtfully, her voice tinged with bitterness.

"Yes, but as you're well aware, I would never be able to pursue that line of interest. I have very much given up any hope whatsoever, so it's not a problem," he replied calmly.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I get the impression that you two aren't still talking about medicine," Marianne pointed out suddenly. George and Jane both blinked in surprise, as if they had forgotten who was seated at the table.

"_Marianne_," Ellen scolded. "Of course they're –"

"It's alright, Mari," George assured the young woman with a kind smile. "There's nothing to worry about, Jane and I are going to be at least civil towards each other for the night," he swore.

"Well let's all be civil," Danny laughed, turning his head to the side to regard Christopher. "Will _we_ play nice towards each other, Chris?" he questioned airily. Christopher scowled.

"That would depend on your behaviour, not mine, Daniel," he practically snapped, turning to Marianne to take advantage of her attentions for a while.

"Well _we're_ going to play nice, aren't we, Em," Frank laughed, sliding into his seat beside Emilia. "I must say, that's a stunning dress. Very complimentary," he commented, taking in her figure.

"Wow, I didn't know you were gay."

Frank rolled his eyes.

"I am most certainly _not_, would you like me to prove it to you?" he challenged. Emilia rolled her eyes.

"Keep it in your pants," she and Eli said in precise unison. Everyone at the table burst into laughter.

"I've been spending _way_ too much time around you," Eli laughed.

"What? I've been spending too much time around _you_!" Emilia retorted.

"Where's _Elton_?" Haley moaned miserably, rising up from her chair and stepping to the side of the balcony to peer over into the carpark.

"He's probably just a little late, hun, he usually is," Emilia assured her. Haley sighed.

"Well whilst we're waiting – and drinking, why don't we play a few games?" Frank suggested. James groaned.

"_Anyone_ who knows _anything_ about Frank knows that playing games is his favourite pastime," he informed the table with a sigh.

"Hey, I have _good_ games," he laughed. "Why don't we start off with an easy one?" he suggested.

"I'm in," Emilia declared instantly.

"Ooh! Me too!" Eli insisted. Darcy sighed.

"I guess that means I have to play too," he muttered.

"Count me in," said Taylor.

"Well I'll play," Marianne giggled.

"I'm going to regret this – I know – but I'll join in," James gave in.

"Come on Nellie, you've _got_ to play!" Marianne insisted. "Danny, you too, and Christopher, don't think you're getting out of this," she added, turning to her two companions.

"I'll pass," Jane said quietly.

"I'm afraid I'm going to miss out on this one too," George informed them, raising his hands in surrender. Frank laughed.

"Not a chance! You two _have_ to play – George, you can be in," he declared. "Go up and leave the room for a minute and I'll explain the rules," he ordered. George scowled.

"It's not my custom to –"

"Come on George, please play?" Emilia begged endearingly, flashing him her best 'you know you can't deny me anything' smile. He sighed.

"Fine. I'll play for you, but not for _him_," he muttered, standing up, and stepping into the apartment.

"Okay, so everyone here has to pretend that they're someone else at the table. It can be whoever is in, too," Frank began. "And when George comes back in he has to guess who each of us are by asking a whole bunch of yes or no questions, but they can't be about names or appearances, and he can't ask the same question twice. If he gets more than five questions, the person has to make statements about who they are – and he'll have to take a drink for each statement made," he explained.

"Well that's easy enough," Emilia laughed. "Alright, I've picked who I'm going to be. What do I do now?" she questioned.

"No, it's not that easy. Does anyone have a piece of paper and a pencil?" he asked, glancing around the table. Christopher produced a pen from inside his jacket pocket, and Ellen had a 'to do' list with plenty of space left over on it, so they ripped off the spare paper and tore it into several small shreds, on which Frank wrote each person's name, before making three copies of them so that George couldn't just work out who had been called out and name whoever was left. Haley decided to sit out – she would much rather wait for Elton. They then each took a piece of paper with the name of another person on the table, but told no one who they had received.

"So do we call George in now?" Emilia questioned, peering at her slip of paper.

"Yeah. You don't have to act girly if you're a girl or anything like that, just answer the questions he asks. If you don't know the answer to the question you have to take a drink. You have to take a drink when he works out who you are, too. The person who was asked the least amount of questions at the end of the round is in next," Frank explained, before calling George into the room and quickly explaining the rules. George sat down with a slightly annoyed expression on his face.

"Alright, let's get this over with. Who's first?" he questioned. An excited Marianne raised her hand eagerly.

"Ooh! Me! Pick me!" she demanded.

"Alright, are you female?" he questioned.

"Yes."

"Are you between the ages of twenty-five and thirty?"

"Ohh… I don't know," Marianne admitted.

"Then you have to take a drink," Frank ordered, pouring her a shot of vodka from one of the many liquor bottles available.

"Umm… I'm –"

"You have to, Marianne," laughed Danny, passing the shot to her. Blushing, Marianne swallowed it down before loudly coughing and spluttering.

"That's _awful_!" she cried. Christopher patted her back to both comfort her and clear her throat, and she replied with a small, thankful glance.

"Alright, next question," Frank ordered.

"Are you single?"

"No, I'm not," she answered.

"Are you married?"

"Yes," she laughed.

"Taylor," George answered simply. Marianne reluctantly took a second shot – sipping it this time. "Who's next?"

"I'll go," Eli ventured.

"Are you male?"

"Yes."

"Are you in your twenties?"

"Nope."

"Are you sitting between a blonde and a brunette?"

"Damn."

"Christopher," he concluded factually.

"Your turn Will," Eli commanded after taking a drink, poking her companion in the arm. He rolled his eyes.

"Alright then, shoot."

"Are you female?"

"You've already asked that question to someone else," laughed Eli.

"Uhh… do you have internal reproductive organs?" George corrected himself.

"We would hope not," Darcy replied, rolling his eyes slightly. Eli snatched his slip from his hands and giggled.

"I know this is going to ruin the game, but no, he most certainly does _not_," she laughed.

"You're yourself," George laughed. Darcy nodded, and threw back a shot.

They continued around the table in relative ease, Ellen was Frank and so was Christopher, Danny was James and James was Danny whilst Emilia got herself, but Taylor lucked out on the second question and was revealed to be Ellen.

"Jane, your turn," Taylor declared after taking her two shots, one for having been found out and one as a penalty for only lasting two questions.

"Oh, alright then," Jane muttered, turning to George.

"I can't think of another gender-identifying question," he realised suddenly. "Uh – do you wear makeup?" he questioned suddenly.

"Isn't that an appearance question?"

"It's not specific to a time or date, just a general 'do you wear it reasonably often' question," he returned.

"Oh. Well, yes, I suppose," she shrugged.

"Do you play a musical instrument?"

"No," she answered with slight curtness.

"Well you can't be Eli then," Emilia commented with a grin.

"Are you a personal assistant?" he asked.

"No."

George frowned as he glanced around the room. He was _certain_ it was either Ellen or Taylor – they were the only two who didn't play a musical instrument.

"Uh… are you a 'secretary'?" he questioned, wondering if he had mixed up the titles. She shook her head. He frowned – only one more question and then he would have to take a drink. "Umm… Are you sure about the musical instrument question?" he asked with a raised brow.

"Yes," she answered. "Does that mean I have to make a statement now?" she questioned, glancing over to Frank.

"It has to be vague, but actually apply to the person," Frank explained.

"Oh. Well, I – I always tend to get what I want in life. Things always work out… _swimmingly_," she declared curtly.

"Well I can only think Emi, but she plays a musical instrument," George muttered.

"Oh, does she?" Jane questioned carelessly. "Sorry, I didn't know," she shrugged, taking a shot. George took one as a penalty for reaching the statements, and glanced towards Emilia. She was frowning slightly at nothing in particular.

"Well, that just leaves me!" Frank declared delightedly. "So go ahead, big boy," he urged him.

"Were you born in the eighties?" he asked calmly.

"Uhh… no, I don't believe so," he replied with a grin. George counted down, that left Darcy, Eli, Emilia, Marianne, Christopher, Danny, James and himself. He really should have picked a better question.

"Do you live alone?"

"In a manner of speaking," Frank laughed, his baby blues twinkling merrily. George scowled – it was a useless answer!

"Are you a student?"

"Of life? Yes. But not of an establishment of education."

"Are you in a relationship with another person?"

"Oh yes. Not in a way one would normally consider, however," he replied cryptically. George practically growled.

"Are you an English citizen?"

"Well I'm assuming as such," Frank laughed. "Well! That's five, so do you know who I am?" he asked teasingly. George reluctantly shook his head. "Goodie! A statement!" he declared excitedly.

"You're enjoying this game a little too much," James laughed at his little brother, who's eyes were shining brightly.

"Hurry up then," George urged him, impatient to end the most useless ten minutes of before-dinner pleasantries he had ever experienced.

"I'm stuck," Frank declared. George blinked in confusion.

"What?"

"I said 'I'm stuck'. So that's one drink for you so far, and unless you guess now –"

"I still have no idea who you are. You're being ridiculous," George scowled.

"Alright, then I'll give you another one," he proposed. "I'm settling for second best," he corrected himself with a growing smile. George frowned. "No? _Still_ not getting it? Well – I'll give you one more, for free," he decided, clasping his hands together wickedly and leaning forwards slightly on the table, locking his playful eyes with George's confused ones. Suddenly his expression turned to one of wickedness. "I want something that I _know_ I can't have," he said slowly.

George paled only slightly, the corners of his mouth flickering downwards.

"You're me," he managed to choke out. Frank grinned from ear to ear.

"So it would seem," he replied simply, leaning back in his chair. George glanced towards Emilia and frowned.

"Excuse me a minute," he spat, rising from his chair and storming out of the balcony.

The table was in complete silence when he left. Everyone was reeling in surprise – and no one was sure of what had actually happened.

"What was all _that_ about?" exclaimed Emilia in surprise. "Frank? What did you mean?" she questioned. Frank laughed.

"Just a little private joke between George and I," he answered with a grin. Emilia rose from the table.

"It's not a _joke_, you've upset him!" she retorted with agitation. Frank shrugged.

"It's not what you think. Don't worry – he's absolutely fine," he assured her calmly.

"He's _not_ fine! And what on _earth_ were you going on about in that game?" she questioned snappishly.

"Em, sit down – I don't think you want to go into this," Eli murmured quietly.

"No! Tell me what you were talking about!" Emilia demanded. Frank raised a brow and laughed.

"Well, my dear, I just think that it's about time you accepted that you don't know _everything_ about George Knightley," he chuckled.

"Of course I do. I've known him all my life," she snapped. "You're being ridiculous Frank – I don't know what game you were _really_ playing, but it's not fun if you've hurt him, it isn't –"

"_Elton_! Oh! Elton is here! I can see his car!" squealed Haley joyfully, interrupting the conversation. "Look, there he is! Oh, he's wearing a leather jacket! How sexy…" she sighed dreamily, practically falling off the side of the balcony as she craned her neck to watch him get out of his car from below.

"Em, I haven't hurt him. I just messed with him a little," Frank assured her with a charming smile.

"You'd better not have," she murmured, walking back into the flat. "George?" she called quietly, tiptoeing through rooms to get to the kitchen. He stood leaning against the counter with a distant expression on his face. "What did Frank mean?" she questioned quietly, stepping up towards him. He seemed to snap out of his trance.

"Nothing," he muttered, shaking his head, but the glazed look hadn't quite left his eyes.

"Did he offend you?" she asked in growing confusion, taking another step towards him.

"No."

"He said that I don't know everything about you," she murmured. He nodded.

"You don't," was all he replied with. Emilia felt herself frown.

"But that's crazy! I've known you all my life! I practically _live_ with you – what on earth is it about you that _he_ could now when _I _don't?" she questioned incredulously.

"I think it's about time you got over arrogant assumptions like that, Emilia Woodhouse," he snapped. "You _don't_ know everything about me, and neither does that little fop. Granted, you know more than he does, but if you're so blind that you can't see after _seven years_ of – no. I'm not going to have _my_ life torn into pieces on the count of that blonde-headed wank," he muttered bitterly beneath his breath, turning away from her.

"_What_, George? Tell me what you mean!" she demanded in a state of desperate confusion.

"I'm not obligated to do _anything_," he snapped. Emilia stepped forwards, her eyes wide and pleading.

"Come on. You can tell me anything, George, and I'll never judge. Remember what we said? We promised that we'd never be enemies," she reminded him softly. "I love you, George, you're my best friend, and you know me better than anyone else in the world. I'll always be there for you," she swore, reaching forwards and taking his hand in hers. He raised his eyes fleetingly.

"I – I can't," he murmured pleadingly.

"George, _please_, tell me if something is bothering you!" she demanded. He sighed, and took a deep breath, running a hand through his dark hair.

"Well… it's… for a while now I've – it's been really hard to deal with – I didn't want to say, but I – I think you deserve to know that I've kind of been in l –"

"_Emilia_ _Woodhouse_! I must say, it's an _honour_ to see you again," interrupted a very cheerful voice. George cursed and turned away, and Emilia blinked in surprise.

"Oh! Elton! I didn't hear you come in," she laughed, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Umm – everyone is out on the balcony, why don't you go join them?" she suggested.

"Hmm, only if you do me the honour of accompanying me," he replied with a broad, almost cheesy grin.

"Actually, I just needed to talk to George for a minute. Do you mind? I'll meet you on the balcony in a minute, but in the meantime, I know Haley would _love_ to talk to you," she replied, smiling pleasantly.

"Well, alright, but hurry up – George is always monopolising you," Elton sighed with a quick grin, before slipping out onto the balcony. Emilia instantly turned back to George.

"What were you about to say?" she questioned.

"Nothing," he muttered bitterly, lowering his head. "Absolutely nothing. Now hurry up and get back out there – they're probably all waiting for you," he commanded snappishly. Emilia scowled.

"_George_, you had –"

"Come _on_, you little brat, lets just get this night over with," he ordered, taking her by the arm and practically pulling her out of the kitchen.

"Don't _pull_ me!"

"Then stop pushing me," he retorted angrily, his eyes flashing darkly. They both stopped their march, and Emilia tugged her arm from his grip, biting on the inside of her mouth to stop herself from showing too much emotion.

"I guess you're right. Maybe I _don't_ know you," she snapped, turning away and storming out onto the balcony.

George sighed, and ran a hand through his dark hair.

He was getting pretty good at that whole 'screwing up' thing.

**A/N: Just a quick note as I have to go to school now. I'm trying to keep this alive as long as I can by having longer breaks between updates, so I have more time to write chapters. Hopefully if I spread it out a bit I'll be able to finish this story, maybe even before February, as was the plan. Definitely before July, as I'm going to Paris in July! *hopefully* I'm so excited, my parents have decided to pay for the trip and I can go now! Whooooo! *Just as long as we can get some other students to come too, we need at least twenty and we only have about forty students in year twelve taking French at the moment***

**I love you all!**


	12. Of Toothpaste and Revelations

Toni glared at her toothbrush.

She gave it the dirtiest, 'I-completely-and-totally-despise-you' look she had ever given _any_ person or object.

Taking a deep breath, she raised it slowly to her mouth, the lurid blue toothpaste shimmering under the bathroom lights, absolutely _mocking_ her.

She was sure, as she began the torturous task of brushing her teeth after throwing up her entire stomach, that had she anything left in her body that was able to be projected into the bathroom sink, that she would have wretched again. But she could only wince as she scrubbed the disgusting taste of bile out of her mouth.

"Cariad? Are you okay?" she heard her husband softly question, poking his head into the bathroom. He shot her a compassionate glance as she spat out the remainder of the toothpaste in her mouth.

"I hate being pregnant," she muttered bitterly, reaching for the mouthwash with reluctance. Howl stepped behind her and wound his arms around her waist comfortingly.

"I know, love, but morning sickness is just a phase – it'll be over soon," he assured her gently.

"I'm supposed to be getting really nice skin and a stomach that looks like it's about to explode – I'm waking up every morning and throwing up my guts, all I've been able to eat for the past two weeks is dry toast and tea – and I'm actually _losing_ weight," she bemoaned unhappily. Howl kissed her shoulder softly and stepped towards the bath, turning on the taps and allowing the tub to fill with hot water.

"The book said you'll begin to show in a few weeks, and the morning sickness isn't going to last much longer," he reminded her. "So why don't you take a nice long bath, I'll put on _The Clash_ for you, and then we can sit around cursing Polliwog for all the stress it's putting its mother through," he suggested. Toni gave a weak smile.

"It's not that I don't _like_ Polliwog, I just don't like being _sick_!" she explained forcefully. Howl chuckled.

"Well I'm pleased that you don't hate our child, and I can understand the dislike of being ill. But love, you _know_ that you need to be taking it easy," he reminded her gently.

"I want chocolate. I want coffee. I want to be able to brush my teeth without throwing up. I want to stop taking a dozen multi-vitamins every ten minutes. I want to go back to work. I want to tell Eli so I can complain about this to her," she said petulantly. Howl chuckled.

"I thought _you_ wanted to wait to tell her," he reminded her. Toni chewed her lip.

"I know, but… I think maybe… I think Polliwog is here to stay, and I want to tell Eli about it," she continued timidly.

"Maybe we should wait for your third month, that was what we agreed to before," he interjected. "I just don't think we should tell Eli yet," he added.

"Howl, she'd _want_ to know. And I don't want to keep something like this a secret from her for much longer," she objected pleadingly. Howl lowered his eyes thoughtfully, and took a deep breath.

"Alright. We'll tell her tonight," he murmured finally. Toni smiled happily.

"_Thank you_! God – I've been so stressed trying to hide it from her, and she might even know already, it'd only take her a minute with that creepy 'gifted kid' thing she does," she responded eagerly. Howl laughed, pleased that he could bring a smile onto his wife's face. For the past few weeks since her return she had been quite miserable with the ill-effects of pregnancy, so a smile was quite an achievement.

"Now have a bath – I'm calling the Vermin and telling him that my darling, precious wife will not be coming to work today," he replied, giving her a quick kiss and parting from her. Toni rolled her eyes, and started to pull off her night shirt.

"Oh, I meant to ask you – do you think Eli and Darcy are having sex?" she questioned curiously. Howl froze in the middle of his walk to the bathroom door. He frowned as he turned around to face her whilst she slipped into the bath.

"What makes you think that?" he asked, trying to keep his tone level.

"Well, she's spent the night at his place once or twice," she shrugged. "And they've been together for over three years, you know. They _are_ engaged," she added. Howl blinked in surprise.

"I – I never thought of that," he murmured. "I thought you were just joking with all that 'safe sex' talk!" he exclaimed, growing agitated.

"Well she hasn't mentioned anything to me about it, and Darcy says they're not, but I was just wondering," she said simply.

"Right. I'm asking her about that tonight – and I'm going to have to have a little talk with William!" he declared, stepping out of the bathroom.

Toni laughed as she watched him leave, his mind on a mission.

"Well, Polliwog, for all _we_ know, your niece or nephew could be right on the horizon too," she said thoughtfully to her flat belly, before giggling at the thought.

~ * ~

Emilia Woodhouse was loosing it.

Whatever 'it' was she wasn't particularly sure of – but she knew that it was always around when George was, and all of a sudden George _wasn't_.

They hadn't spoken to each other since the party, and that was a full week ago.

"He hates me. I know he does. He's finally gotten sick of me," she stated miserably. Eli rolled her eyes.

"You're being dramatic. George loves you – what happened at the party wasn't your fault," she assured her, popping a chip into her mouth.

"I just wish I knew what was going on! I mean, Frank seemed so _weird_," she murmured in a state of high confusion, running a perfectly manicured hand through her pale curls. "And he's normally so nice! I really like Frank, so why was he acting like that?" she questioned incredulously.

"I have a suspicion that Frank Churchill's fanclub is rather small," Darcy commented dryly, sipping his bottle of coke as they all lazed around his apartment that afternoon.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that Frank isn't a guy you should be chumming up to. He's like a male, more charming, more intelligent, less loopy version of Haley," Eli interjected.

"Hey, don't insult Haley! I'm _helping_ her!" Emilia reminded her friend sternly.

"You can't help stupid, hun. I'm not saying she's an idiot, but she's definitely not the brightest crayon in the box," Eli retorted with a shrug. "And I just don't trust Frank. I think he's hiding something," she added.

"He wasn't the only one at that table hiding something, I'd say," Darcy hinted. "Do you think that Christopher likes Marianne?" he questioned his girlfriend curiously. Eli rolled her eyes and slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand.

"Christopher is in love with Marianne, but he's too shy to let her know how he feels because his ex-wife ran away with his brother and he's scared he'll get hurt," she began stating factually. "Marianne fancies herself in love with Danny, but Christopher doesn't like him at all – and I can understand why, he's a bit of a sleaze. And Ellen is miserable because this guy she likes, Edward, has a girlfriend," she continued. Darcy blinked in surprise.

"_What_? When did all of that happen?" he exclaimed in complete shock.

"Probably when you were running up to Pemberley to oversee all those repairs," she retorted coolly with a simple shrug, inspecting her fingernails with pretend interest.

"Ouch. Okay, I had best go," Emilia declared, sensing the sure-to-be ensuing argument. "Thanks for lending an ear – but George still hates me, so you two were kind of useless," she added teasingly, rising from her chair and picking up her coat and purse. "Are you guys still free for Saturday night? I want us all to go to Richard and Char's place for drinks so Haley can spend a little more time with Elton, I think he's too shy to directly ask her out," she continued, glancing over to her companions, who were both glaring at each other. "Alright. I'll remind you about that later," she muttered, backing away, and slipping out of the apartment.

"You're upset that I go up to Pemberley so often?" Darcy questioned in quiet surprise. Eli sighed, and pushed her dark locks behind her ears.

"I know that it's selfish, but… well, I _miss_ you," she murmured quietly. "Things have been kind of weird at home for a while, school is getting really stressful and everyone is going crazy for the new production at the theatre, and I haven't heard from anyone in Australia for a while… I don't know. Things are just so strange right now, and it's like you're hardly ever here," she explained simply.

"Elizabeth, I'm doing this for _us_, so we can set up the school at Pemberley like we wanted," he reminded her gently, shifting couches so he could sit nearer to her. She nodded. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to the side of her jaw.

"I know. But you're not – I'm not a part of it. I just don't feel like I'm involved at all," she said slowly. "I feel like I'm out of the loop. I know that Nada and Toni are keeping something from me, and I know that my old family seem to have just forgotten about me this year, and I don't like it when _you_'re distant from me too," she informed him honestly. Will laughed.

"You're _jealous_ of Pemberley because I'm spending time there and not with you," he teased. Eli's eyes flashed impetuously.

"No I'm _not_, I'm just saying that –"

"It's quite alright, darling, your feelings are perfectly understandable," he said patronisingly, patting her shoulder as if she were a small child. "You're just too attached to me. I'm all you can think about. In your mind, the world revolves around me," he sighed mockingly, leaning back on the couch. Eli rolled her dark eyes.

"Huh. Sure. That's precisely it, so should I give credit for that remark to you, or should I forward it right to your ego?" she asked in sarcastic cheerfulness. Darcy gave another laugh.

"Hmm, how about to my perfectly adorable, jealous little companion?" he offered cheekily. Eli poked her tongue out in a show of true childishness.

"Adorable is right, _jealous_ is not – and I'm most certainly _not_ little," she retorted simply.

"I don't mind that you're jealous. It's actually quite… endearing, really," he replied with a smirk, shifting closer to her and winding a hand around her waist. Eli raised a brow.

"'Endearing'? Wow, most guys use cheesy lines with only two syllables, you're on a role," she retorted.

"Well, lets see –"

Whatever he was going to say, propositional or not, was cut short by the message tone of Eli's mobile. Apologetically she pulled it out and scanned the reflective surface.

"Sorry babe, got to cut this short – Nada and Toni have requested my desirable presence," she sighed dramatically, slipping her phone back into her pocket. Darcy groaned miserably.

"Drat. Well, I suppose you had best go, it's getting a bit late," he rationalised, releasing her from his grip. Eli gave him a quick peck on the lips, picked up her effects and left the apartment, beginning the short walk from Will's apartment to her home.

It took her twenty minutes to arrive, by which time she discovered her adoptive parents sitting at the dining room table, looking rather severe. She stepped into the room warily.

"Umm… who died?" she questioned, hoping it would lighten the mood.

"Sit down Eli, there's something we need to talk to you about," Howl requested, gesturing to the chair opposite his. Eli took a seat, running horrible scenarios of what could have happened through her mind.

"Alright, you're starting to creep me out," she informed the couple with growing anxiousness.

"There's nothing to worry about, hun, everything is fine," Toni assured her gently, with a warm, genuine smile. Eli chewed her bottom lip.

"Then what's up?" she questioned warily.

"There's something we need to talk to you about," Howl began calmly.

"He's making it sound so _morbid_," Toni muttered, rolling her pale eyes.

"Seriously, what's going on?" Eli demanded nervously. Howl sighed.

"We're pretty sure that this isn't bad news for you, Eli, but we just don't know how you're going to feel about it," he began slowly. "The thing is that… well, Antoinette and I are going to have a baby," he informed her finally, after a sharp poke from Toni urging him to hurry up.

"Are you kidding?"

"Not at all. He or she will be born around January, if all goes well," he answered soberly. "Eli, you have to understand, we'll love this baby _equally_ to you, and you don't have to feel threatened by –"

"I'm going to have a little brother or sister!" Eli squealed joyfully, jumping up from her chair before Howl could continue, pulling her adopted mother into a tight hug. "Oh my _God_! How long have you been hiding this from me? I can't _believe_ it! I'm so happy for you guys!" she cried happily. Toni joined her with excited laughter.

"I found out about two months ago, I've been waiting to tell you for _ages_," she explained breathlessly.

"Wow! _January_ – that's so far away!" Eli exclaimed unhappily. "Why can't it be born _now_? I want a little brother!" she practically whined.

"Brother? What if it's a girl?" Howl questioned with a raised brow. Eli rolled her dark eyes.

"No way! I've already had sisters, I want a _brother_," she retorted simply. "And why did it take you two so long, huh?" she questioned in teasing accusation. Howl spluttered for words as the two women before him burst into giggles. He rolled his amber eyes.

"You two are terrible when you're partnered together," he informed them factually.

"We know, hun," Toni laughed, her smile broader than it had been in quite some time. "But I'm so excited! We _seriously_ have to think of names, okay?" she said breathlessly, turning to Eli with a playful glimmer in her pale eyes.

"I think 'Aubergine' is a really nice boy's name," Eli suggested.

"Wow! Ha, that's really good, it's going on the list," Toni insisted. Howl groaned.

"My child is going to be named after a vegetable, I know it," he muttered dismally.

"But it'll be a _good_ vegetable," Eli interjected teasingly. Howl raised a questioning brow.

"I'm calling William – I'll advise him to never give you the opportunity to name any children you have in the future," he declared, before a contrasting expression crossed his face. "Oh. Uh… along that line of thought," he muttered somewhat sheepishly, turning back to face his adopted daughter. "Uhh… Eli, please, sit down again," he advised, gesturing towards the chair as he took his own chair once again. Toni slid into the seat next to him, containing her excitement for long enough to hear him out.

"What's up?" Eli questioned curiously. Howl took a slow breath.

"Uhhh… Antoinette and I _really_ don't want to seem like we're being… well, too interfering," he began carefully.

"No judgements here, hun," Toni chirped. Eli narrowed her eyes slightly in suspicion.

"And we respect that it's your choice, and that you don't have to tell us anything," Howl assured her with slight nervousness. "We were just wondering if… well, if you and William had… _progressed_ with your relationship," he continued, choosing his words with the upmost care.

"I… _what_?" Eli exclaimed in surprise, staring between the two in shock.

"It's okay if you're not, we just thought… you two have been together for a while now, and it's okay if you _are_, too," Howl hastily threw in.

"We just want to know where you and Will are, babe," Toni interjected softly. Eli spluttered.

"I – what are you – _no_!" she finally managed to choke out. "What made you think _that_?" she practically squealed. Howl shrugged, instantly looking ashamed.

"You've spent the night at his place," he murmured sheepishly. "You can't expect us to believe that you two haven't gotten a little more serious over the past three years," he added, his voice rising slightly in volume so it was actually _audible_.

"Yeah, but we don't – we haven't – I mean, we've done _stuff_, but we've never had _sex_," Eli assured them instantly. "We – We're waiting till we get married. We just think it'll be special like that," she explained, her cheeks flushing bright red. Toni smiled gently.

"That's good, hun. It's good that you two made that decision, and I'm really proud that you're sticking by it," she said with a warm grin.

"I mean, I'm only nineteen!" Eli exclaimed. Toni lowered her eyes slightly.

"Babe, age is just a number, if you felt like you were ready for it when you were younger than what you are we would respect that," she assured her quietly.

"But you know that this is a modern world, and you don't really follow any religion, we don't want you to feel pressured to put what you want off to make us happy," Howl reminded her. Eli nodded firmly.

"No. This is what we want, Will and I. I know that… well, maybe nineteen _isn't_ so young, but I just don't…" she trailed off.

"Sweetheart, it's okay. We just don't want you to regret anything," Toni assured her.

"We care about you, cariad, and we know that Will cares about you to. We're happy that you're thinking about this sensibly," Howl added. Eli smiled.

"Thanks. That means a lot to me," she sighed happily. "Ooh, I have to call Will and tell him the good news!" she squealed instantly, jumping up from her chair. Howl and Toni chuckled as she dashed out of the room, and then dashed back, pulling the two into a tight hug before disappearing again.

"She's a pretty good kid," Toni sighed happily, resting her chin on her hand with a pleasant smile on her lips.

"It's good that she and William have agreed to wait – I'm very happy about that," Howl replied with a great deal of relief, running a hand through his dark hair. Toni chewed her bottom lip slowly.

"Was I too young?" she questioned suddenly. Howl blinked in complete surprise.

"Sorry?"

"To have sex. Was I too young? Should we have done what Eli and William are doing? Waited?" she asked with slight anxiousness. "I mean, I felt like a slut compared to her, she seemed to determined to wait until she's married, and I…" she trailed off quietly.

"Physically you might have been a little young, but emotionally you were much more developed than Eli," he answered slowly. "Did you _want_ to wait?" he questioned curiously. She shrugged.

"I don't know. I was raised to be a good little Catholic girl – even though that never worked out for me – but I kind of figured…" she murmured, leaving her sentence unfinished.

"But we sat down and talked about it, we spoke about it rationally," he reminded her. She nodded.

"I know. And it was wonderful, I don't regret it at all," she assured him. He seemed to loosen up considerably at that. "I mean, _yes_, we did talk about it and really think it over, and it was very romantic and lovely, but I just wonder if maybe I _should_ have tried to hold out," she explained with a slight frown, as if she was disagreeing with her own words as they came out her mouth. She sighed.

"Well… I know that we thought out our first time. We talked about everything that would happen, that might happen, we were honest and sensible," he began slowly. "Our _second_ time –"

"And third."

"Yes, and third," he chuckled. "They weren't as planned. I don't think I really gave you an opportunity to say 'no, I don't want to do this anymore'," he confessed, staring at his hands, folded on the table before him.

"Hey, that whole 'sweeping everything off your desk the moment I walked into detention' thing was pretty hot," she laughed. He nodded, and gave a small smile.

"But if we had waited a little while…" he trailed off with a sigh.

"Things would be different," she said simply, lowering her eyes. Suddenly the distance between them at the dining room table felt like miles.

"There wouldn't have been a miscarriage," Howl murmured.

"Valerie and I probably would never have broken up."

"Your mother wouldn't have tried to have me executed," he added.

"And we might not be sitting here right now," Toni reminded him, turning back to face her husband. "I don't regret anything. Waiting is good for Eli and William, it's what they want and I think it's the best thing for them, but it just wasn't for us. We didn't want to, we didn't need to, and I'm glad we didn't," she assured him finally, sliding over a few chairs to sit next to him. He sighed, and pulled her onto his lap, her head resting against his shoulder as he gently stroked her arm.

"How are you feeling?" he questioned, murmuring into her pale hair. She shrugged.

"Okay, I guess," she replied simply.

"No, I mean… in barely seven months you're going to be a mother. We're going to be parents," he clarified gently.

"Maybe," was her simple, quiet response. She felt him tense immediately.

"Antoinette…"

"Well how can I _not_ think about that sort of stuff, Howl?" she questioned him desperately, tears sparkling in her pale eyes as she pulled away slightly to meet his gaze. "I've lost _two_ babies, maybe this is God's cruel joke on me, maybe there's something wrong with me – maybe –" she began suggesting desperately, before she was shushed by Howl, his hands gently cupping the side of her face.

"Maybe we'll lose this baby too, Antoinette, but maybe we _won't_," he responded firmly. "I'm scared too. I think about what _could _happen too, and it would be naïve of us to think that it won't be a possibility. But thinking about it all the time isn't going to help little Polliwog, we need to be strong for our baby and for each other," he continued, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "If something does happen, then we'll always have each other, and we can get through anything. But right now we have a baby, a little child that's getting bigger everyday, and even if we _do_ lose Polliwog, being happy right now isn't going to make that any worse of better," he said softly. "I'm not trying to be morbid, but I don't want you worrying about what _could_ happen, just enjoy what _is_ happening," he urged her. Toni nodded, and wiped a single tear from the corner of her eye. She laughed, as if at her own silliness.

"I have to keep pinching myself to see if it's real," she confessed. Howl chuckled, and leant in for another kiss.

"It is real. All of this," he assured her. She sighed against his lips.

"Things are going to change," she reminded him. He nodded, and smiled.

"I'm okay with that."

Toni allowed herself to be taken up in his assuring embrace.

She was okay with change too.

**A/N: So at this point in time I, I plug. I've just made a new blog, called 'Le Jardin d'Eve' (**_**Eve's Garden)**_**, and I want you all to come visit and say hi! The address is http: // www . lejardindeve . blogspot . com / (you can find the proper link on my author's page, and my new poll), and it will be filled with my original writing, photos, news and updates about what's going on, when I'll have time to write, when I'll be updating, what my plans are for new stories, that sort of stuff. It's also a good way for me to say 'hello' to all of you, because it's open for everyone, member of blogs or not to view, make comments, etc. So if you want to stop by, maybe check out what I've written (at the moment I only have one short story up, but more will be coming soon), and keep up-to-date with little old me, then please, by all means, do, because I love talking to you and hearing about what you like, dislike and generally who you are so I can get to know my readers :D This is all a part of me expanding on the interwebs so that when I leave school (le gasp! About ten months till I'm out!) I'll be able to say to publishers, universities, companies, etc., 'hello, this is me, you can find me HERE!'. A real website will be coming soon, so stay tuned for that, too!**

**I love you all, my faithful readers!**


	13. Of Dreams and Nightmares

"'_I can't wait forever', is all that you said before you stood up,  
And you won't disappoint me, I can do that myself  
But I'm glad that you've come, now if you don't mind _

_Leave, leave, and free yourself at the same time  
Leave, leave, I don't understand, you've already gone,_"

-The Swell Season, 'Leave'

George opened his eyes slowly, his pupils adjusting to the darkness surrounding him. The door was opened in his bedroom, and light from the hallway was spilling in, outlining a familiar figure.

"Em? What are you doing here?" he muttered in tired question. She flicked off the light and tiptoed to his bed as he turned on the lamp, which gently illuminated his bedroom. She wore a flimsy little white cotton and lace nightgown that barely covered her knickers and left very little to the imagination. Her blonde hair fell loosely around her shoulders, framing her perfect face. He sat up and ran a hand through his dark hair as she slid atop the bed.

"I've missed you," she murmured softly, meeting his eyes with her wide blue ones. "I hate not talking to you – I hate that we argued the other night at James and Taylor's place, and I hate what Frank said to you. I don't know how he knew about what's going on between you and I, but it was wrong of him to say what he said," she continued, edging closer towards him.

"He knows… so… _you_ know…" he stated slowly, swallowing rather obviously. She nodded. "So you know about… my… _feelings_," he murmured, to which she nodded once more.

"I'm sorry I've never said anything to you. But… well, I am now, and I want you to know that I feel the same way," she explained softly, moving closer so their knees were touching. She leant forwards, and placed a hand on the side of his cheek. He inhaled sharply and turned into her palm instinctively.

He didn't care what the circumstances were, he pushed forwards and pressed his lips against hers, indulging in the taste he had barely sampled over three years ago. She gave a soft gasp before returning his embrace, running her hands up into his hair. He vocalised his desire with a half-suppressed groan, gently biting against her bottom lip to allow him access to her mouth.

He couldn't believe what was happening. He had been so upset over the past few days about their argument – the second in the space of a week – and now she was in his bed, kissing him fiercely and running her hands through his hair. He pulled her as close as he could, but it just didn't seem close enough, it would _never _be close enough. He practically clutched her to his chest, hands tightly tugging at curls and nightgowns with need, those hands sliding over her shoulders, down her back, gripping her waist and pulling her down to lie beside him, sliding over to rest partially atop her body.

"I love you," he murmured into her mouth, shifting his kisses to her jaw, her cheek, just beneath her earlobe, down her neck and in the dip at the base of her throat. "I love you, I love you, _God,_ I fucking love you, Em," he continued desperately. "Why? Why _now_?" he questioned breathlessly, running his path back up to meet her eyes, resting his forehead against hers whilst he attempted to catch his breath.

"I'm sick of waiting around for you to take the first step," she shrugged simply, her swollen lips curved into a slight smile. Her hand rose to gently caress the side of his face, and he turned quickly into her hand, pressing a needy kiss to the inside of her wrist. "One day you're going to regret not taking that step. I can't wait forever. One day you're going to wake up and realise that I'm not lying next to you, I'll be lying next to some other man in some other room, and _his_ hands will be touching me the way yours are," she whispered quietly.

"W – What?" George exclaimed with a frown, tightening his grip on her. She winced, as if he were hurting her with his tight grip.

"We'll never be enemies, George," she assured him gently, pulling him closely to he lay completely atop her. With one torturously wonderful kiss on his bottom lip, she let her hands run down over his chest. He shivered with the feelings that her touch evoked in him. "But we'll never be any more than friends," she finished, biting down on his lip so hard that he felt blood pool in his mouth.

He swore, and instantly raised his hand to his lip as he sat up with lightening speed.

The room was empty, filled only with the sound of his racing breath. He let a groan slip from his lips, as he fell back onto the bed.

He didn't know how much longer her could last with _her_ haunting him.

~ * ~

'_Juniper Hotel_' was the fashionable and colourful bar owned by Richard Fitzwilliam and Char Bingley, which had been opened barely six months before by the two but had become a rather popular hangout in that time.

"Ah, ladies and gents, so pleased to see you," Richard greeted delightfully as his next batch of customers approached him. "How are my lovely bitches then?" he enquired, wrapping a lazy arm around Emilia and Eli, who rolled their eyes.

"Engaged," Eli reminded him with a quick grin. Richard sighed, and clasped his heart melodramatically.

"Will, pistols at dawn. Winner gets the girl," he declared, glancing towards his companion.

"Sure. I'll tell your boyfriend, I'm sure he'd be perfectly happy to come along and be your second," he retorted simply.

"I'll be your second, babe, don't worry," Emilia assured Richard with a laugh, patting him on the side of his stomach.

"Well, if I don't get Eli I'll most _certainly_ take you," he rationalised with a broad grin. "Ooh, you've brought me fresh meat," he exclaimed, taking in the little blonde waif standing before him.

"This is Haley Smith, Haley, this is an old friend of ours, Richard, he and his partner run this place," Emilia informed her companion, who was blinking at the ceiling.

"And by 'partner' she means in a business sense and a fuck-buddy sense, I'm afraid, but you're pretty cute, so perhaps Char wouldn't mind a threesome," he replied charmingly. Haley's mouth fell.

"Huh?"

"Umm… hello? Anyone home?" Richard questioned, waving his hand before her hazel eyes, before glancing back to his 'bitches'. "All the lights turned on upstairs?" he asked with little delicacy. Darcy and Eli both shook their heads as Emilia scowled.

"Don't be mean; she's just intimidated by you. You have the tendency to be a little strange," she reminded him.

"Yes, I know. One of my many attributes," he sighed with a grin. "Alright ladies and gent, I'll leave you to your table. How many?" he questioned.

"Well neither Frank nor Elton are here yet, so a big one would probably be best," Emilia decided.

"Well, help yourself, it's reasonably quiet tonight, no strippers covered in grease or topless waitresses," he explained, gesturing to a large corner booth with red leather chairs.

"Come over and get drunk with us when you have a spare minute," Darcy requested. "But keep your pants _on_ this time," he advised. Richard snorted.

"I make no promises, but at least I'm wearing knickers tonight," he bowed. His cousin raised an accusing brow.

"Yours?"

"Nope, sorry."

"Leave now," he directed with a shudder. Richard laughed his way back to the bar, leaving the four to take their seats.

"He's… weird," Haley muttered.

"Very much so," Darcy agreed, before glancing back to Emilia. "No George tonight?" he enquired with a slight frown.

"No. Not tonight," she answered simply, lowering her eyes to stare intently at her hands. Eli sent her companion a short, chastising glare, as if to say 'how could you _say_ such a thing?' William shrugged unknowingly, unaware of the current animosity between George and Emilia.

"Why is Elton _always_ late?" sulked Haley, glancing around the room with a sigh. "Is that –" she started excitedly, her eyes lighting up with hope, before she gave a pout. "No. It's just Frank," she muttered miserably. Emilia glanced up and saw that indeed, Frank Churchill was approaching their table. He greeted her with a quick smile as he took a seat.

"Hello ladies, Will, having fun?" he questioned cheerfully, glancing around the table. "No George?" he exclaimed in surprise, turning to Emilia, who rolled her eyes.

"No, not tonight. I don't spend every minute of every day with him, you know," she retorted with slight coolness. She still hadn't worked out what happened at Taylor's dinner party, but she didn't think Frank was entirely innocent.

"Good. It's nice to have a break occasionally," he replied with a broad grin. Emilia sighed, and nodded. She really _did_ miss George, but it wasn't like the argument they had earlier on the last week, she had no idea why it had occurred, and she didn't know who was in the wrong or in the right. "I think I'm going to head over to the bar. Anyone want anything?" he questioned, when she didn't reply.

"Lolly water," Eli requested.

"Gin and tonic," threw in Darcy.

"Elton…" Haley sighed. Frank hid back a snort of laughter.

"Right. Well, until he comes, I'm going to get you a Long Island Iced Tea – I think you'd make an interesting drunk," he commented with a cheeky grin. "And what about you, Princess? Anything?" he questioned teasingly, turning back to Emilia.

"Uhh… sure. Whatever they have that's good," she shrugged simply. Frank nodded and rose from his chair, strolling over to the bar.

"Hey, it's going to be alright. You and George are going to make up," Eli assured her friend gently. Emilia sighed, and gave a small, weak nod.

"I know. We always do, but… I miss him," she muttered simply.

"He's probably missing you too, you know," Darcy pointed out offhandedly.

And indeed, George most certainly _was_ missing Emilia Woodhouse – more than he thought he really could.

"You aren't going to be miserable _all_ night, are you?" Howl questioned with a frown as he passed his friend a tumbler of scotch. George shrugged.

"Hopefully I'll get drunk enough to forget her completely," he suggested hopefully, swallowing back a mouthful. His gaze suddenly turned distant.

"Hopefully?"

"Hmm. I could just as easily forget her as forget my own existence," he said quietly, staring at his glass, as if he hardly knew Howl was there at all. He gave a clumsily laugh to brush the bad thoughts away. "So. How is this 'daddy-to-be' nonsense going for you?" he enquired as Howl took a seat in the armchair across from his companion.

"Well, the majority of the time I'm looking after Antoinette, she's always terribly sick for half the day, she hasn't been back to work since she came home," he began, sipping his own scotch. "Which I'm quite happy about, really, because we still haven't sorted out that mess with her lecherous boss," he added. "And of course, there's the doctors appointments, I think we've seen half a dozen specialists in all sorts of things that I didn't know you _could_ become a specialist in," he continued thoughtfully. "And they all seem to be saying the same thing. Pregnancy is just not Antoinette's… thing. They said it's going to be difficult, and there's about a one in three chance that…" he trailed off distantly. "But we try not to think about it. She's on a pile of vitamins and supplements that she can hardly keep down because she's vomiting up her entire stomach several times a day, and we're trying to keep very calm about everything," he explained, with a slightly forced smile. "But of course… I'm not calm," he admitted with a small laugh. George raised a brow questionably.

"Any reason in particular, or is it just a general nervousness?" he enquired almost teasingly. Howl's eyes were fixed on nothing in particular as he thought over his words.

"There's a chance I might lose her, George. There's a chance that I might lose Polliwog _and_ Antoinette, and I don't think I could handle losing her," he admitted with a shrug. "I mean, to lose a child would be… horrible. But I've already gotten through it once before, I just _can't_ lose Antoinette, she's everything to me," he explained earnestly. George nodded in understanding.

"And how is Antoinette handling it?" he questioned. Howl gave a tiny, bitter smile and relaxed back into his chair.

"She's very excited, but she's still shit-scared that she's going to lose this baby too, so I don't think she's letting herself be happy," he shrugged. "We're going to get an ultrasound in a few days. I'm hoping that it'll help her realise that Polliwog is real, alive, and that right now it looks like we have a decent chance of making this all the way through," he added simply, taking another sip of his scotch.

"And you?"

"Me? Well, I'm absolutely terrified of course," he answered factually. "Of everything. I'm scared that if I'm not looking after her all the time she's going to get even sicker, I'm scared that we're going to lose Polliwog, I'm scared that Eli is going to freak out and feel unwanted, I'm scared that I'll be a terrible father, I'm scared that something is going to happen in the birth and I'll lose either Polliwog or Antoinette – or _both _of them, I'm scared that my mother is going to want to be here every step of the way, I'm scared that _her_ parents might find out about this –"

"And I assume that Martine still hates you," George interjected.

"I slept with her seventeen-year-old daughter. I don't expect her to be my biggest fan, you know," he retorted with a sigh. "But if Martine _did_ find out about this… Antoinette would be sent straight off to the convent. And I can only imagine what her father would do," he muttered dismally.

"But Antoinette hasn't spoken to them in years, and I doubt anyone even knows where Émile is," George rationalised.

"That doesn't matter. I'm still terrified about it," he said simply.

"Well it's understandable," George shrugged, finishing off his scotch and lowering his eyes to the floor.

"I guess I kind of forgot how… young she is. Admittedly she's very mature for her age – but she hasn't had anyone to take care of her. To let her grow up like she deserves," he sighed. "I like taking care of her. I like being the responsible one, the maturer one, it makes me… well, I just feel more secure," he explained brokenly. George nodded, and Howl gave a small sort of laugh. "I've been monopolising this conversation," he realised.

"Well I've not got much to say, so you might as well go ahead," he shrugged.

"How are you holding up?" Howl questioned hesitantly after a pause had fallen over them.

"It's getting worse. Dreams, nightmares, memories, jealousy, every day just keeps on getting worse and worse and I can't handle it," he confessed quietly. "Everything is screwed up, what with this Frank guy and Jane coming back, I just don't know how…" he muttered, running a hand through his hair as a symbol of weariness. "We slept together the other night," he declared. Howl practically jumped, his eyes widening in shock. "No, not _that_, I mean we _slept_ together. We'd had an argument and we both kind of stormed off, but she came into my apartment a few hours later, and climbed into bed with me," he clarified.

"Shit. You really had me going there," Howl muttered, still slightly shaken with the surprise his friend had given him. George gave a bitter smile.

"I wish. Having her beside me the whole night proved to be a very cruel reminder of how much I'm missing out on," he informed him quietly, pouring another glass and swirling the amber liquid around in his tumbler mindlessly.

"And nothing… happened?" Howl questioned slowly, with a great deal of carefulness. George instantly rolled his eyes.

"I'm not a corpse, you know, and she does happen to be absolutely gorgeous – but nothing 'happened' other than a physical reaction to seeing the girl I'm in love with climb into my bed," he replied pointedly. He took a sip of his drink. "Anyway, I've developed a very good trick for… getting rid of physical reactions," he confessed. "I go over my shopping list and contemplate different kinds of celery," he informed Howl morosely.

"Wow. What a life you live," he drawled sarcastically. "Well I admire your strength – had I been pining away for Antoinette for seven years and she crawled into my bed one night I wouldn't be so gentlemanly as to contemplate my shopping list," he chuckled. George shrugged.

"I… have no other options. If I don't ignore what I want then I'll lose her," he said simply. "And I can't lose her. I can think about vegetables or have a cold shower, I can overcompensate with insults so she doesn't know what I'm really thinking, and I can stay up all night watching movies with her even though I'm getting too old for it – but I _can't_ lose her," he swore vehemently, before groaning in frustration and leaning back in his chair, running a hand through his dark hair. "Things are so crazy right now. Frank, Jane, Elton, this Haley girl… I'm at a complete loss of what to do," he sighed in agitation.

"Jane coming back was a bit of a surprise," conceded Howl. "But you don't still have feelings for her – do you?" he questioned with a slight frown. George gave a muffled snort.

"I doubt I _ever_ had feelings for her," he retorted. "But there's definitely something going on – I have a suspicion that Frank is up to something. And Jane might just be in on it," he explained.

"I doubt it."

"No, there's something wrong with him, I know it," he insisted firmly. "And I want him to stay away from Emilia. I can't stand seeing them together – and I know he's going to get her hurt," he added. Howl sighed, and leant forwards, resting his head in his hands.

"George, I think… you're too involved in this. Perhaps it's time that you stepped back, and let Emilia –"

"What, let her go?" he interrupted with a cold and bitter tone. His eyes were flashing darkly in anger. "No. _No_. I'm not letting that little fop hurt her. And I'm not just letting her walk out of my life," he snapped.

"Listen, your chances of –"

"I know that there's very little hope of Emilia ever feeling for me what I feel for her."

"Precisely. And it's getting more and more likely with every day that she's going to find some other guy, and _he'll_ take her from you," he reminded him, trying to sound gentle, but still insistent. "It's going to hurt a lot less if you give her away, not have her taken from you," he added.

"No. It's going to hurt more than I could ever comprehend if I lose her, and the circumstances won't made a damn bit of difference. I'm _not_ letting that fop win – and I'm _not_ going to abandon her, or let her abandon me," he declared fiercely. Howl sighed.

"Fine, but you're setting yourself up to be hurt. You're going to regret it someday," he said simply. George clenched and unclenched his fist as he stared off into the distance.

"I know. But I don't regret it now – and that's all that matters," he muttered quietly.

~ * ~

"You look miserable," Frank pointed out cheerfully as he sat down next to the solitary Emilia, placing a glass of something alcoholic before her.

"Really? Because I'm quite chirpy today," she retorted sarcastically. Frank sighed.

"Listen, I know you think that I've damaged George so badly that he'll never recover, but it's not as bad as you think," he assured her. "I startled him. I _did_ study human behaviour; I think it just freaked him out that I'm on the same page as him now. He's probably not used to people reading him that quickly," he added. Emilia scowled at her drink.

"He and I aren't talking, and it was because of an argument that we had about what you said to him," she stated with as much calmness as she could muster. "You don't understand. We've _never_ not spoken for this long, it's been a _week_, Frank, an entire week, and it's a direct result of what _you_ did," she snapped. He nodded slowly in understanding.

"I'm sorry. But he wasn't upset about what I said, he was upset because I know something about him that he didn't want me to know," he explained.

"Oh yeah? And what's that?" Emilia questioned pointedly.

"That he's completely and totally in love with you," he informed her quite simply. Emilia rolled her eyes.

"Yeah right. You walk in; you see us together for a few hours and think you know everything about us! We have a history, Frank, it goes back as long as I've been alive and it's more complicated than a simple 'oh, you two are close, he must like you'," she retorted angrily, turning her gaze away from the dance floor where Haley and Eli had dragged the reluctant Darcy and Elton to face him. "We're close. _Really_ close. We wouldn't be able to survive without each other, we're that close, but that does _not_ mean that he's in love with me, and it's _not_ fair that you say that," she continued, her pale eyes narrowed. Frank blinked in surprise.

"Ohhh… you're in love with him _too_!" he exclaimed in realisation. "But something is holding you back, isn't it," he stated slowly, tilting his head slightly, as if it would allow him to see into her mind. "I was wondering if it was the case, because he's so damn obvious about his feelings that you _must_ know, you're smarter than you let on," he continued thoughtfully. She gave a sarcastic snort.

"Wow, we met, what, two weeks ago? And you already think you know every single thing about me," she snapped pointedly.

"I read people well. William Darcy? He's hiding something from his girlfriend, for some reason he resents her. Eli? She's one of the most messed up kids I've ever seen," he continued, glancing over to the dance floor.

"Eli had some shit in her life but it's over now," Emilia insisted coolly. Frank shook his head.

"No, she's damaged goods – _very_ damaged. She's clever and sharp, but she doesn't have much emotional intelligence, and I get the feeling that she's had an education forced on her, not by will. I'm not saying that she's stupid, but I think whoever raised her was constantly trying to make her smarter than what she is," he explained. "She doesn't have a lot of confidence, either. But it's good she's with Darcy – he's obviously so in love with her that she feels secure with him," he added, taking a sip of his drink.

"You can't just –"

"Haley? She's absolutely crazy. There's no saving that girl, she's pretty, yes, but I doubt that there's two brain cells to rub together in that head," he continued, ignoring her objections. "Elton just wants to get into pants and wallets. I don't know why you're trying to set the two up, he's not interested," he added.

"Humph. And you worked this all out for yourself?" she asked coolly. Frank gave a charming smile.

"And _you_, my little missy, are the trickiest of the lot. I just can't seem to work out what's behind that pretty little exterior of yours," he said thoughtfully. Emilia lowered her eyes and scowled into his drink. "Even George is a little easier than you, and he's a _very _confusing sort of guy. But you… no, you're more mixed up than Eli, the Darcy boy, George, that Welsh bloke and his little French wife – she's another little puzzler – not to _mention_ those Dashwood girls and that Christopher Brandon all put together," he declared.

"I'm not mixed up. I'm perfectly happy," she insisted coolly. Frank gave a small snigger.

"Oh, but you're not. You're very _unhappy_, incredibly so. I can tell that much, you know," he laughed.

"Well, I'm a bloody onion, layers and all that," she retorted sarcastically, sipping her drink.

"No. You're a Pre-Raphaelite painting – hundreds of thin little layers, all of different colours, sitting on top of each other to create an appearance of depth," he said thoughtfully. "To make it look like there's a certain glow, a glow of healthiness, happiness, _life_… but the glow isn't there. You're empty inside. Misery has completely eaten away at you," he continued, his voice in a mutter. Emilia raised her eyes to meet his, brimming with unspent tears, her mouth open as if she were about to object, but she said nothing. "And that's not your fault, you're clever, beautiful, well-meaning, and you _do_ have depth, but somehow your insides have been scooped out," he informed her.

"How _dare_ you walk into my life and think you can do that to me! It might work on some girls, making them feel damaged and different and _special_, but it will _not_ work on me!" she insisted with great offence.

"Trust me, I'm not trying to glorify you – you're miserable and that's horrible, but I want to know _why_," he informed her simply, all humour lost from his expression. He edged closer. "So why is it that you can't see – or choose to ignore – the fact that your best friend is slowly going mad because he can't be anything more than a friend to you, when _you_ want nothing more than that? I think a little part of you _knows_ about his feelings, but you can't accept them, you keep trying to convince yourself that it's not true, I don't know why but you do," he said in a hushed whisper.

"Shutup Frank, you're being an idiot," she sniffled quietly.

"You're unusual. Most girls _love_ being called damaged goods; they think it makes them special. But _you_ don't want that, you spend every minute of every day trying to convince the world that you're perfectly happy and loving life when you simply aren't – you're worse than your cousin," he muttered. She raised her head in surprise.

"My cousin? What about her? Antoinette _is_ happy!" she insisted firmly. He rolled his eyes.

"Sure. Whatever. It's very unusual; almost every single person I've met since I came here has been broken and put back together with crazy glue. I'm surprised you aren't all falling apart," he informed her, taking a swig of his drink. "Anyway, you had best tell George how you feel. I saw how he was looking at you in that dress last week, I'm surprise he's held out this long, he must be going mental," he muttered thoughtfully.

"You're wrong. George loves me, but not like that – we're friends. We're best friends and if that concept is too much for you to –"

"You're the most unusual girl I've ever met, Emilia Woodhouse. I can't understand why you constantly persist in lying to yourself on a day to day basis. You must be very exhausted," he commented casually.

"If George is in love with me, like you say, then why does he constantly remind me how inferior I am to him and everyone around me in every respect? Why is it that he hasn't given me a compliment since I was a child? Why is it that he shouts at me, orders me around, calls me ugly and stupid and annoying and doesn't seem to give a _damn _about how it affects me?" she questioned angrily. "I'm shallow, I know, for wanting all of that from him, but he's the most important person in my life and he doesn't seem to care at all about how I feel when he says those things to me. So how the _fuck_ did you come to the conclusion that he's in love with me?" she questioned wildly.

Frank blinked in surprise, nodded, and made a small noise, as if he had just realised something.

"I was wrong. You honest to God do not believe that he loves you, because you're too insecure to comprehend it," he muttered thoughtfully. "That's it! That's how you've become so empty; he's _completely_ stripped you of your self-esteem! I can't believe I didn't see it before!" he exclaimed laughingly.

"That's not true," she sniffled.

"Oh, but it _is_. It explains everything, and George is so reluctant to tell your straight out how he feels because he's worried you'll reject him, but because he's been putting it off so long you're starting to think that he doesn't care…" he explained to himself, his eyes lighting up with glee, as if he had solved some difficult puzzle. "It all fits perfectly, it even explains why you keep trying to help people. You have all this extra love to give because you don't love yourself, so you thrust it on everyone around you," he continued eagerly.

"That's a lie," she snapped. "All the love I have in my body goes to George – he's my _best friend_, he's my entire world and you seem to think that because of that, it must mean I want to be romantically involved with him. Well I _don't_, and he doesn't want that with me either," she informed him curtly. Frank gave a small, sympathetic smile.

"It's okay, Em. I won't tell him. It'll be our little secret," he assured, reaching for her hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. "Listen, I didn't come here to hurt you, and I have no desire to hurt George, either. But you're funny, you're smart, and I like hanging out with you. So can't we be friends?" he suggested. Emilia sighed, and pulled her hand away.

"You still hurt George, and you put out some of the worst crap I've ever heard just then," she muttered quietly.

"I didn't hurt George, and what I said wasn't crap, it was true. I just think that maybe you need another friend," he urged her. She chewed on her bottom lip.

"Fine – but you can't tell George about this conversation, even though what you said was a lie," she insisted. He laughed, and nodded.

"Sure, whatever. But I won't tell him. We'll still be friends, and I heartily suggest you go back to George. I'm sure he misses you," he advised.

"Well he can't expect me to come running every time we have an argument, particularly when I'm not to blame," she muttered beneath her breath.

"He's proud."

"He's got a choice – he _always_ has a choice and until he makes his choice, I'll wait for him," she snapped. Frank sighed.

"Fine, you can wait, but I don't think that's going to get you anywhere. You know that Jane Fairfax is back in town, so I'd be a little wary," he advised. Emilia's eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean?" she questioned accusingly. Frank shrugged.

"Well I think it's a little weird that she's come back like this. I mean, I don't know the details, but _apparently_ she was involved with her friend's husband, and he dumped her because she let slip the wrong name at the wrong time," he explained, his eyes sparkling with conspiracy. Emilia frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, she's not over George, and she came back because the little affair with Jacob Dixon gave her a wakeup call," he replied simply. "She's probably on the prowl again, it would make sense," he shrugged. Emilia arched a brow.

"No. I don't _like_ Jane, but she'd never do that," she insisted. Frank laughed.

"_Finally_, someone who doesn't like her. Everyone seems to be singing her praises wherever I go," he chuckled.

"I've _tried_ to like her, but she's just… I can't warm to her," she shrugged, with a small sigh.

"Yes, she can be a little cold," Frank agreed. "But I'm quite certain she'll be sticking around, so you might as well get used to her," he advised.

"I'll try my best, but no promises," Emilia swore in return, finishing off the last of her drink. "Want another?" she questioned, gesturing to his almost empty glass.

"Sure, why not," he replied with a quick grin. She wound her way out of the booth and headed up to the bar.

Frank watched in silence.

She was sweet, but he would tear her apart anyway.

A/N: Ahhh. Had a horrid week, computer crashed (all files have been saved, however), assignments due, worked on Saturday, life is grand. Anyway, just thought I'd update a little earlier than I usually do these days and remind you to check out my blog :D http:// www . lejardindeve . blogspot . com /

**Yep, I'm **_**really**_** subtle… ^__^**


	14. Of Rain and the Ramones

"Well I asked Doctor Windsor, Daddy, and he said that he thinks you need more _rest_," Bella insisted firmly.

"But Doctor Windsor hasn't even seen me, Bella! And besides, I trust Doctor _Penn_, he's been very helpful," Henry Woodhouse replied with equal firmness.

"But Daddy, Doctor Windsor is the _best_ in his field, I swear."

"No, no, my dear, I'm quite sure that Doctor Penn has no competitors, he's very reliable, he really is."

"Now, is it physically possible that conversation around this place could get any duller?" Jon questioned in a bored monotone, absent-mindedly patting his son's curly blonde locks back as he played around his feet.

"Possibly. They haven't begun to discuss vitamins yet," George pointed out with just as little interest, his eyes fixed to a figure at the window seat. Emilia sat, holding baby Lucas in her arms, gently rocking him from side to side as she looked out the window.

"You should talk to her," Jon advised. George rolled his dark eyes.

"You aren't aware of the situation," he retorted simply.

"I know. But I still think you should talk to her."

"A little brotherly advice?" George questioned sarcastically.

"She's _miserable, _George, just talk to her," he laughed.

"I doubt she wants to speak with me," he muttered quietly.

"Just get up and go talk to her, she'll probably cry if you don't," Jon ordered finally. George sighed, and reluctantly rose to his feet, crossing the sitting room of Henry Woodhouse's grand mansion.

He sat down on the window seat near her, and took the baby gently from her arms as she turned to glance at him. He shushed young Lucas softly, bouncing him slightly until he settled once more. Emilia smiled softly.

"You're good at that," she informed him quietly, turning her gaze back out the window. George sighed.

"We shouldn't be enemies. We shouldn't be fighting over something so trivial and meaningless," he stated finally. She turned back to face him, a small, grateful smile on her face.

"I agree. I know I can be annoying sometimes, but I really have missed you," she said with a great deal of relief.

"Come to my apartment tonight?" he requested hopefully, and she nodded.

"Yep. I'll bring smoothies and we can watch stupid old movies," she laughed, wiping a small stray tear from the corner of her eyes. She leant forwards to hug him warmly, before Lucas gave a small snort of discontent. She laughed and pulled away, smoothing the child's head gently. She kissed his brow, and then turned to George, kissing his. He smiled gratefully, and returned the sign of affection.

"Don't they make a _lovely_ couple, Jon?" Bella sighed dreamily to her husband, watching the two make-up.

"Hmm. Very cute indeed," he conceded with a nod.

"A couple? No, not at all, Emilia isn't interested in being in a _couple_ or boyfriends or marriage or anything at all like that," Henry insisted. "Bella, dear, you're being very silly. George is simply a good friend of the family," he declared with a convincing firmness that he normally reserved only for discussions on his state of health (which was admittedly, quite often the topic of conversation in the Woodhouse family).

"Hmm. Of course, Henry," Jon muttered boredly, giving his son's hair another pat.

~ * ~

The sky was a murky grey, fat drops of rain rolling down the wide windows of George's bedroom. Emilia sighed softly as she watched the heavy clouds move slowly across the surface of the sky, occasional beams of a hidden sun shining through the darkness. She rolled over slightly, and turned her eyes to a more familiar face.

He looked quite beautiful, a few stray locks of burnt umber hair caressing the side of his face, his jaw covered in a thin layer of stubble, the blanket pooled around his waist and his baggy old _RAMONES_ shirt hanging perfectly over his shoulders. He had a very noble facial structure, a face that held strength and power and was so ridiculously beautiful it almost made her want to cry.

She pondered over Frank's words as she sat up, and crossed her legs as if she were about to meditate, her gaze turned out to the window as another dark cloud rolled by. 'Love' was a powerful word. She'd never really contemplated its meaning; she had simply gone along with her minimal understanding and assumed that she _did _love George.

After all, she had known him all her life, they spoke practically every day, she didn't think she could survive without him. She'd never felt that for any other individual in the world.

But she'd never _loved_ anyone in a romantic sense either.

So how was she supposed to tell if she loved him in the way that Frank assumed she did? The fact that she loved him was under no question – he was everything. Her light, her dark, her moon, her stars, he had grown from being the force that her entire world revolved around to _becoming_ her world; she indeed could not imagine life without him. But was there ever a line? A marker that she would cross and suddenly her love would transform into something completely different? How was she to know? She didn't understand her own heart – she didn't know anyone that would be able to explain her feelings in a clear and precise manner that would allow her to coolly evaluate the situation.

She simply did not understand, and that unknowing was like a heavy weight sitting across her chest, slowly drawing the air from her lungs. She wanted to reach for something, anything, just _something_ that would pull her back to safety, but to call out for assistance would reveal her turmoil. She was tired. She was so _damn_ tired.

'You're being silly, Emilia,' she thought quietly to herself. 'There's no point contemplating whether or not you love George, because it's perfectly clear that _he_ doesn't love _you_.'

She sighed at that thought. It wasn't a happy one.

Her sigh turned into a small smile as she regarded her sleeping companion.

Would it really be so bad to love George, and to be loved by him?

~ * ~

"How come _she _gets to stay up here with the kids and _I_ have to go endure the most boring dinner in the history of the earth?" Jon questioned his wife miserably as she straightened his tie.

"Emilia isn't staying up here – she's coming down for dinner with the rest of us," Bella firmly assured her discontented husband.

"Bella's lying. It's because I'm prettier than you," Emilia retorted teasingly from the floor of the upstairs sitting room, where she nursed young Lucas whilst playing Connect Four with Harrison (who didn't actually understand the concept, but was enjoying himself regardless).

"I really do hope that my son spits up on you," Jon informed her coolly. Emilia laughed, and gently rocked Lucas.

"Keep hoping," she advised, arching a grin.

"Emi, hadn't you best get ready?" Bella questioned anxiously.

"Probably, but I can hardly leave Lucas to roll about the floor by himself, you know," she retorted.

"George! Watch the boys so Emi can get changed – the guests will be arriving in fifteen minutes!" Bella squealed, directing her former-step-brother-in-law with a nervously trembling hand.

"You only had to ask," George declared, tossing his newspaper aside and rising up from his armchair. "Come on then young man, shall we amuse ourselves whilst the ladies prepare themselves?" he questioned Harrison, who instantly squealed in joy and ran into his uncle's arms before exploding into a peal of giggles. "An intelligent response as usual, Harry," he muttered with a dull chuckle, before depositing the boy on the couch. He took Lucas from Emilia carefully, resting his small head in the crook of his arm.

"Oh George, you're such a natural at that. I _do_ hope you have your own soon," Bella sighed with relief whilst her little sister rose to her feet.

"Well, one day, Bell," George said with a simple shrug and a small smile at his sleeping nephew.

"Finally going to settle down and find some nice young man, are we?" Jon questioned his former step-brother sarcastically.

"Why? Will you need a boyfriend when I steal your wife from beneath your nose?" George retorted with false pleasantness. Emilia sniggered.

"You two are just as bad as each other. I'll only be a few minutes – please, no bloodshed," she requested, after rolling her pale eyes.

"But Em, didn't you hear Bella? She said guests will be arriving in fifteen minutes – not five hours," George reminded her innocently.

"Ooh, you're funny today."

"I pity you. I only have to put up with this for a few weeks each year, _you_ have it every day," Jon muttered.

"Well don't feel bereft, you still have mirrors to darken your day, bro," George reminded him with a wicked grin. Jon opened his mouth as if he were about to object with some impressive profanity, but was instantly silenced by his wife.

"Jon, not in front of the boys. Now you two stop being silly – Emi, go get dressed," she commanded sternly. The two men had the decency to look at least mildly ashamed of themselves, but their small smirks were unmistakable.

A small party had been organised to bid Bella, Jon and their two sons off before they headed back to America for the rest of the year, as per usual. Each year at the grand Woodhouse mansion a party like such took place, but it was really more of a dinner between friends. That year would bring the Westons and Frank, Toni, Howl, Eli and Darcy, as well as the Bates and Jane – but as bad luck would have it, Haley was sick, leaving Elton un-partnered for the night. Emilia had decided to take it upon herself to cheer Elton up, whilst reminding him of Haley's _many_ attributes. Ellen, Marianne and Christopher were also going to be absent – apparently Marianne's boyfriend, Danny, was going to be spending some time in centre London, and the two girls were conveniently visiting an old friend of the family to see if they could bump into him. Danny had recently left rather suddenly, and Marianne was heartbroken, and yearning his presence. Hopefully seeing him in London would cheer her up considerably.

"Emi, dear? Are you ready?" Bella questioned, popping her head into her little sister's old bedroom.

"Nearly. I'll be out in one minute," Emilia answered, applying a layer of light lipstick as she caught her sister in the mirror.

"Dressing up for Frank again, are we?" Bella questioned eagerly. Emilia rolled her eyes – she was already quite over Frank. He was charming, funny and very attractive, but he wasn't boyfriend material. Or rather, he _was_. In fact, he was the perfect boyfriend material, but for some reason she just wasn't interested in a relationship with him. Or with _anybody, _for that matter. But that concept had gone completely over the heads of her friends – most were absolutely convinced that she and Frank were made for each other, and would spend the rest of their days in each other's company.

"Nope, I'm dressing up because it would be very odd if I wandered around the house naked," she retorted simply, straightening her dress. It was a pretty little Chanel number that she had acquired through some of her fashion connections, the lightly ruffled skirt was made of some sort of gauzy pale pink silk, and the top was of the same material in off white, hanging nicely over her torso and tightening just above her elbows. She pulled her curls back into a pretty bun and wore little jewellery and only light makeup. All in all she looked pretty, but not overwhelming. She had no reason to be the star of the show; she was merely hanging out with some friends.

"Well you look very pretty, pink really suits you," Bella complimented as her sister slid into a pair of light pink pumps.

"And you look wonderful. I'm so sad that you'll be leaving!" she sighed dramatically. She was being honest, she and Bella had never been particularly close, but she _did_ miss her sister, nephews and even Jon when they went away.

"Oh, you'll be fine, you have Frank and George to entertain you – you've got nothing to worry about!" Bella assured her with a wave of her hand. "Now come on, James, Taylor and Frank are already here! You have to come greet them!" she declared, taking her sister by the arm and practically dragging her out of the room.

"She can be quite brutal, you know," Emilia hissed to Jon as they passed him leaning against the sitting room doorway, an amused grin on his face to see his wife pulling her little sister behind her with such force.

"Oh yes. I'm well aware."

"Ew. Now you've made me think that your relationship is completely S and M," she winced.

"Only on weekends – normally his boyfriend is quite gentle with him," George called out from the sitting room as he gently rocked Lucas back and forth.

"George, call the Nanny – Lord knows where she's got to – get her to take the boys upstairs and come and greet the guests!" Bella hissed, before continuing her march with Emilia dragging behind her. "Taylor, James, Frank! It's so good to see you!" she practically squealed, fixing her perfect little house-wife face on as they stepped into the entrance room, where the maid/nanny was taking coats.

"Wow, what a greeting. I feel like I'm in an episode of _I Love Lucy_," Frank sighed happily, pressing a soft kiss to either side of Bella's face, before doing the same to Emilia. Taylor and James followed his example diligently, eager to keep up with him.

"Wasn't Lucy some ditzy blonde?" Emilia questioned with a slight frown. Frank sniggered.

"You need to watch more TV if you don't know about _I Love Lucy_," he laughed.

"Oh no, Doctor Penn said that television is very bad for young children, Emilia doesn't watch any at all," Henry croaked out insistently as he navigated into the front room with his electric wheelchair.

"No Daddy, just movies with George," she replied affectionately.

"George? Oh, is George here? We never see him these days, Emilia dear, it must be so sad for you," he sighed miserably.

"Oh Daddy, George still _visits_," she reminded him firmly.

"But not as much! You must be so destitute; normally he would come over each day! Now it's once or twice a week at best! I know you miss him because you're always locked in your room, probably crying, my dear," he continued, patting her arm as if to express his sympathies.

"You don't still live here, do you?" Frank whispered quietly. Emilia shook her head, and tapped her nose. He glanced over to Henry, and a look of understanding passed his face. "Ohhhhhhh…" he murmured, his brows raising slightly.

"Henry, I can assure you, Emilia and I still see each other every day, I haven't forgotten her," George informed those assembled as he stepped into the entrance hall.

"Good to see you George, how've you been?" Frank asked chirpily, turning to him with a broad grin.

"Well," he practically snapped, before glancing back to Henry.

"Really? Well that _is_ nice, I do hope you're looking after my little girl," the man replied with a relieved sigh.

"As best I can," George assured him with a kind smile.

"Why don't we all go into the sitting room and have some wine whilst we wait for the others to come then?" Bella suggested eagerly, taking her husband, who stood reluctantly behind the party, and leading him into the next room. Frank immediately took Emilia's arm and followed, cutting in front of George with a cruel gleam in his eyes. George scowled, but instead pushed Henry's wheelchair into the room as he listened to the man lament on the state of his general well-being, or lack of well-being, as it were.

"You have a great place, Em," Frank informed his companion as he glanced around the sitting room. "Very fancy. Grew up here?" he questioned, as they took a seat on the chaise.

"Well I was born around here, but we spent a lot of time in France. We only moved to this place ten or so years ago," she explained with a shrug.

"And what about you, George? Have you been in Rosings Park your whole life?" Frank enquired, turning to George with a questioning expression.

"No."

"Well where did it all start then?"

"Buckingham, originally," was his slightly curt answer.

"Isn't that where the Queen lives?"

"Yes. That's why it's called 'Buckingham Palace' – but other people live in the surrounding areas," he retorted with a roll of his dark eyes.

"Em said you're related to the Royal Family. That must be pretty neat, huh," Frank then continued.

"Oh yes! We're very proud of him, he's Prince Charles' third cousin!" Bella practically squealed.

"Something like that. I'm not exactly an intimate acquaintance, you know, if we were walking down the street I highly doubt he would have any idea who I am," George pointed out, his cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment.

"But that's still pretty cool, you know. Do you have a title or something?" Frank enquired.

"My father does – however I have no interest in inheriting it," he answered coolly. "Can we please move on from the discussion of my family?" he practically demanded.

"But George, it's so fascinating!" Frank objected. "I mean, if a whole bunch of people died you could be a King!" he exclaimed.

"Hardly a career aspiration. I'm perfectly contented in my current lifestyle," he replied coolly.

"Well not _completely_ contented, I'm sure," Frank laughed, making a rather obvious glance towards his blonde-haired companion.

"Yes. I am content – I could live the life I've chosen for a hundred years yet," George snapped in a rather finalising tone. Frank had the decency to look slightly surprised, but covered it up with a laugh.

"Well alright then, whatever you say," he shrugged simply, turning back to Emilia. She hazarded a short glance towards George to gage his feelings, but his expression was devoid of emotion. She couldn't read him.

The room was filled with an awkward silence the moment that Frank closed his mouth, broken only by the ringing of the front door bell. Bella jumped up immediately with a squeal, and rushed to the door.

"Oh! It's the Llewellyns and William, thank you _so_ much for coming," she declared breathlessly, her voice carrying into the sitting room with ease. They were ushered through the hall and greeted with loud exultations of joy from those already assembled.

"Antoinette, you look simply ravishing tonight," James complimented in his usual pleasant manner, rising to press a kiss to each of her cheeks. Toni blushed prettily, and linked her arm with her husband whilst the younger couple moved to a divan near Emilia.

"Thanks, James, you're very good to have around," she laughed.

The truth of the matter was that Toni really _did_ look fantastic. Her morning sickness had been easing over the past few days, her figure was just as gorgeous as always, and she had a very pleasant sort of _glow_ about her. It was as if she was being lit from the inside out.

"However, I doubt your wife would like the attention your paying to _my_ wife," Howl pointed out with a small, sly grin. James blushed immediately, and gave an awkward sort of chuckle as he turned back to Taylor, who was sitting comfortably in an armchair behind her husband, one brow raised.

"Ahh… Don't you agree that Antoinette looks pretty tonight, my love? Not as pretty as _you_, of course, but she's made a good effort," he stumbled hastily. Taylor laughed, unable to hide the twinkle in her dark eyes.

"Keep trying, love," she advised.

"But on a different woman," Howl muttered, winding a hand around Toni's waist.

"So are you excited?" Emilia asked Eli in a slightly hushed voice, turning to her companion instantly.

"Hell _yes_, I emailed Francie and asked her what babies wear, so she had a whole list of things that you can start designing, and she had a whole bunch of tips for me to give Toni as well," she replied eagerly.

"_He_ doesn't look so happy," Emilia laughed, glancing over to William, who instantly scowled.

"I _am_ fine. Babies are just a bit annoying to have around," he said simply. Eli rolled her eyes.

"He's been changing his mind about why he's miserable several times for the past few days, so I'd ignore him," she advised, before glancing back to her companion with a playful grin. "And I want to have a kid one day, so tough luck hun, you'll have to put up with it," she informed him simply.

"Well of course it would be different with _our_ baby," he insisted almost instantly.

"Yeah. Cos ours will be called _Juniper_."

"You're not naming our children after Damien Rice's former band."

"Fine. Just Damien Rice."

"I refuse to allow you the right to name our offspring – you'll pull a Michael Jackson and name it 'Blanket'," he objected with a slight shudder.

"And then we'll have another one called 'Pillow' and they'll have naps together," she sighed teasingly.

"There has to be a law about someone like you procreating," he muttered. Eli laughed, and kissed his cheek affectionately.

"Probs, babe," she retorted simply, turning back to Emilia. "But I'm so excited about this! I wish it wasn't so long to wait, it's going to be another six months before I get to have a little brother!" she sighed impatiently.

"So you've pretty much decided it's going to be a boy?"

"Well it better be, or else we'll just have to swap at the hospital," she replied firmly.

"What if _we_ have a girl?" Darcy questioned warily. Eli looked thoughtful as she tapped her lips.

"Well… she'd better be a tom-boy," she decided. "We'll buy her a skateboard. That ought to do it."

"You're horrible. Remind me to never have a baby with you," Emilia interjected. "So when are they going to tell everyone else?" she asked, leaning closer to her companion so they weren't overheard.

"I'm not sure. They were thinking about tonight, but I kind of get the feeling that they'd rather not say until the kid's twenty years old and moving out," she explained. "And even then they'd keep it quiet," she added, glancing over to the couple. They were seated in a divan near Henry, who was droning on already.

"Well, just give them time. They're probably just nervous about it," Emilia reasoned, glancing into the hall as she heard the doorbell ring. "I'll go get that – don't start making out whilst I'm gone," she instructed firmly. Eli rolled her eyes, and purposely put her hand on Darcy's leg, as if just to tease her friend.

"Woah! What are you doing here?" Emilia gasped in surprise as she stepped into the hallway to see George leaning against the door, flicking the lid of a packet of mints open and closed in a repetitive motion. "I didn't even notice you slip out! Had enough already?" she questioned gently, approaching him with a small smile on her lips. He seemed to choose his words carefully when he spoke.

"I'm not –" he began slowly, before sighing. "I'm not okay with Frank. I'm never going to be okay with him. I just thought you should know that," he shrugged simply, glancing back into the sitting room with another unreadable expression. "He's a fake. He's hiding something, I know it, and I don't want him mixing you up in it. He's the kind of man to drag a lamb to the slaughter without blinking, Em. He's slimy and I just don't trust him," he stated simply, turning back to her. Emilia was quite surprised – she knew that they didn't get along, but she didn't know it ran so deep!

"I think you're a little crazy, George," she laughed. "Yeah, Frank is a bit difficult to get, but I think he's genuinely quite nice, underneath all that smugness," she said with a small shrug. George scowled slightly.

"Well… I suppose that you're – entitled to your own opinion," he replied with poorly hidden strain. "I'm just… please don't let him drag _you_ to the slaughter. He's hiding something. So is Jane," he explained. Emilia raised a brow in surprise.

"Jane? What does _she_ have to do with anything?" she questioned in complete surprise. "You don't… you aren't still hung up on her, are you?" she asked warily.

"Not that my relationship with Jane is of much interest to you, Em, but no, I'm not. I'm very much over her," he assured her with little delicacy. "And I think there's a connection between Frank and Jane that no one has worked out yet. Just be on your toes," he advised, as the doorbell rung again.

"Em! Are you getting that?" Bella called from in the sitting room.

"Just a second, Bella!" she called back, turning to George. "What on earth are you talking about?" she questioned accusingly.

"Maybe you should talk to Jane. Try and see what's going on," he shrugged. "She'd be a better friend for you than bloody Haley Smith," he added. Emilia sighed.

"I _know_, but I've never gotten along with her. I tried, but we just never… connected. I can't like her, I try my hardest, and I really _did_ try when you two were together, but it never came to anything," she confessed.

"Maybe it's because Jane is focused and knows what she wants out of life," he suggested simply. "Or because she works for what she has – it's not handed to her on a silver platter. Maybe you see what you envy in Jane and it stops you from getting to like her," he offered. Emilia frowned, and turned away.

"Do you really think I'm so vain as to let _jealously_ ruin my opinion of another person?" she asked coolly. "Wow, George, it's good to finally hear your opinion. You'll make me quite ashamed of myself," she practically snapped, stepping immediately towards the door and practically pulling it open.

"I was _ringing_ and _ringing_ and you wouldn't open, Emilia," Elton scowled angrily.

"Oh, sorry Elton, I was just talking to –" she turned her head, only to see that George had disappeared, probably back into the sitting room. "- Well, sorry. Please come in," she requested, pulling the door open wider. Elton stepped in immediately, and pressed a quick kiss to each side of her face.

"Well, as long as I get to spend the night talking to you, the rest doesn't matter," he said simply. Emilia practically squealed with happiness inside, he probably wanted to talk to her about Haley!

"Of course, Elton. Please go in, I'll be with you in a moment," she instructed. Elton flashed her a charming grin, and slipped into the sitting room. Emilia turned, just about to close the door, when she locked eyes with a familiar face. "Oh, Jane. Hi. Henny isn't with you?" she questioned, glancing around.

"No. Great-Grandmother is feeling a little sick, so she decided to stay at home," she answered with slight coolness. Emilia couldn't help but realise that Jane _did_ look very nice that evening.

She wore one of the nicer pieces in the samples for the new _George_ Spring line, one of the dresses that she had sent over to the Bates, in fact. It was an emerald green satin that ruffled at the neck down to the waist, with a low back, and the hemline barely touched her knees. She wore it with a pair of black heels, her long auburn waves trailing across her shoulders with perfect ease. She looked, as always, very pretty indeed.

"Oh. Well, send her my best," she requested with a small smile, stepping aside. Jane towered over her with her willowy five ten frame, but Emilia wasn't one to be intimidated. "That dress looks lovely on you. It's the perfect colouring – is it comfortable?" she enquired. Jane looked quite surprised.

"Pardon?"

"The dress."

"Oh, yes, I suppose it is, but I doubt you would really find it that interesting," she said simply. Emilia resisted the urge to laugh, so instead smiled.

"It's difficult to find an eco-friendly satin, and I was concerned about the comfort factor," she said simply. "I designed that dress," she explained, when Jane's brow furrowed slightly.

"Oh. Did you? I didn't know," she said simply, turning away, as if in contempt.

"Well then… uh, everyone is in here," she muttered, leading her into the sitting room. Jane walked right past her and into the room, glancing around to find herself a place. There were only two seats remaining, Emilia's, by Frank, and another by George. Emilia could see the dilemma. She didn't want to sit next to George, not after what had just happened in the hall, but she didn't exactly think that Jane was all too eager to sit next to him either.

"Jane, come sit by me, it's been a while," Frank cried out, directing the willowy redhead towards him when he saw the problem. Jane looked relieved to find a place, and sat down elegantly beside him. Emilia gently chewed her bottom lip as she sat down next to George, refusing to meet his eyes. Conversation was flowing abundantly for all those around them – even Jane and Frank seemed to find something to talk about, although it looked like neither was comfortable with each other, but both George and Emilia remained silent.

It was going to be a long night.

**A/N: Oh dear, another argument between Emilia and George. Oh, and by the way, they did **_**not**_** sleep together earlier on, they just slept in the same bed like they did a few chapters ago.**

**Don't want to get any hopes up ;)**

**Well, you know what I want :D**


	15. Of Waltzes and Worries

The before-dinner pleasantries were a great deal more pleasant than those that had been endured a few weeks ago at Taylor's dinner party, or at least, they were for some.

Emilia had never felt more uncomfortable in her life than she did as she sat beside the silent George, sipping a light champagne and pretending that she was the perfect little Princess everyone expected whilst Jane shot her dirty looks, Elton curiously interested ones, Taylor, Eli and Antoinette simply curious ones, and Frank's seemed to be filled with some sort emotion that she really couldn't place. She dared not turn to George – she was quite certain his expression would be far from friendly either.

She just wanted to go upstairs and play connect four or peek-a-boo with her nephews, or to hide herself in a pile of blankets and never emerge. She wanted to hibernate, shield herself from the eyes of others and be alone with her thoughts, which were flooding her with confusion. The human brain wasn't an outfit – she couldn't rearrange it to suit the weather or her mood, she couldn't throw in a cute purse or a pair of dangerously tall heels and feel a million dollars, and she certainly couldn't slip it back into the wardrobe to be contemplated at another time.

"You alright, cuz?" Toni hissed quietly as they all moved to the dining room for the first course.

"Fine," she lied quietly, with a small, weak smile. "Just a little headache, that's all, nothing to worry about," she assured her. Toni narrowed her brows slightly, but nodded.

"Alright, but I want the truth later, kay?"

"Hmm… no you don't," she laughed quietly, shaking her head. _And neither do you_, her brain muttered in the dark recesses of her mind.

Dinner was her only refrain from the awkwardness – seated between Eli and Elton she could safely engage in conversation without hazarding a glance towards George or Jane, and she could drop in as many hints about Haley as she wished.

"I'm glad you got rid of that brown colour, you know," Elton commented through a mouthful of some sort of chicken dish.

"Oh, you prefer blonde hair? Because I think Haley's hair colour is really nice, but I don't have the facial structure to pull it off," she sighed, dismally, flicking a loose curl back (which was almost exactly the same colour as Haley's white blonde locks).

"Huh? Oh, yeah, hers is nice, I guess," he shrugged. "Most people are over that whole 'blonde hair, blue eyes' thing now, but I still think it's really cool," he added thoughtfully. Emilia laughed.

"No! I wish I had dark eyes so I could pull off dark hair – it looks too strange on me. That's why Haley's look works, she's got hazel eyes, which would work for dark or light hair, so she's pretty much set," she explained. Elton blinked in surprise.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I noticed her eyes. Brown, or something like that, right? Yeah, brown is really plain," he retorted simply.

"Well not really, I mean, an ordinary shade of brown isn't that interesting, I suppose, but Eli has really nice eyes, because they're brown, green and amber, but Haley's eyes are nice too, that sort of golden-brown colour with flecks of burgundy, I'd love her eyes," she continued. Elton gave a small, forced laugh.

"Uhh, are you in love with Haley, or something like that? You talk about her a lot," he pointed out. Emilia laughed.

"No, not at all! Neither of us are gay, and anyway, I'd only turn gay for Keira Knightley," she stated factually.

"Ooh! Me too," Eli insisted suddenly. "I mean, she'd need to _eat_ something first, like a pie or some cake, but other than that she's _gorgeous_," she added.

"Hello, my name is William, and we've been engaged for the past three years. Remember?" Darcy interjected tonelessly.

"This is just hypothetical, it doesn't mean I'd _really_ turn gay for her, Will," Eli assured him gently, before turning back to Emilia, and mouthing 'I _totally_ would'.

"Tay? Who would you turn gay for?" Emilia questioned suddenly across the table.

"Katie Holmes," she replied instantly. Eli made a retching noise.

"No way, she's too 'Mary-Sue', 'girl-next-door'," she objected. Taylor shrugged.

"Hey, you asked my opinion," she said with a simple laugh. "Bella?"

"Oh, no one!" she laughed, instantly turning pink. "I'd _never_ be able to turn gay, I love my Jon too much," she insisted lovingly, gazing at her husband. Jon gave a weak sort of smile at her clinginess. "Umm… Jane?" she questioned, turning to the next available female.

"No one, and I don't think it's a very appropriate question," she answered with slight coolness.

"It's a dinner-party question," Eli retorted simply. She had no patience for Jane, and was quite open about that, as was Jane with her dislike of Eli.

"No one's asked me," Toni sulked enviously. Howl sniggered.

"It's kind of pointless, isn't it?" he thew back simply. Toni couldn't resist a small laugh.

"Well who would you turn straight for?" Emilia questioned.

"Uhh… once again, kind of pointless," Howl interjected with a small smirk.

"Well if I were straight, I would _definitely_ turn gay for Keira Knightley," Toni declared firmly. "Would you ever turn gay for someone?" she asked her husband curiously. He winced.

"No."

"Really? Not for _anyone_?"

"Nope."

"Wow," she muttered. "You're boring," she realised suddenly. Howl smirked.

"Quite," he agreed, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her cheek before sipping his wine.

"These are pretty funny dinner-party questions, you know," Frank laughed charmingly.

"They're pretty inappropriate," Jane muttered into her glass. The entire table fell into silence.

"So, uhh... Bella, Jon, how are the boys doing?" James questioned, thankfully breaking the tension, as everyone burst into relieved conversation once more.

After dessert (white chocolate and caramel moose, one of Emilia's favourites) the party moved into a different sitting room for coffee and a little entertainment. Eli was poked and prodded until she agreed to sing for them, so she took her place behind the piano and performed what was to be her audition piece for the principle soprano role at the theatre in a few months time; a gorgeous German rendition of '_Ave Maria_' by composer Philippe Rombi. She dazzled all with her stunning soprano voice that had grown to be almost unnaturally rich for one so young over the past three years, the result of vigorous practice and her time in the theatre.

"That was heavenly, Elizabeth," Bella praised when the piece finished on an impossibly high note, and Eli gave a breathless smile as she timidly walked back to her chair, where her fiancée was waiting proudly.

"You're going to blitz that audition, babe," Emilia said with a great deal of conviction.

"I hope so, but I can't depend on it. The second soprano is _really_ good – way better than me, and she has lots of experience," she said weakly.

"She's probably got one more season left, and she smokes at least twenty cigarettes a day, Elizabeth," Darcy reminded her, with a firm squeeze of her slender hands. "You're going to get this," he assured, giving a soft kiss to the corner of her lips.

"Now, who wants to follow that?" James questioned laughingly. "Antoinette? Brave enough?" he offered, turning to the side.

"Huh? Hey, I sing _The Who_ and _Soko_, I'm not going to try and follow up that," she laughed modestly. "Em? Why don't you do it?" she suggested.

"Uhh… maybe later, when I'm drunk enough," she replied with a quick grin.

"Well I'll do it," Jane declared, rising from her chair and stepping towards the piano. She played a morbid Evanescence song, showing off her sizable range and skill at the piano. She was good, not excellent, and certainly not up to Eli's standard, but she had a pretty voice and definite skill that had been tuned with years of practise. But most notably she lacked passion. Other than her lack of enthusiasm, there was little to be found that could fault her. She was just insufferably perfect in seemingly every way.

The small audience clapped politely as Jane finished, and resumed her seat.

"That was lovely, Jane. Do you practise much?" Bella asked politely.

"In the States I would spend whatever spare time I had practising, but my Aunt doesn't have a piano," she answered in her usual civil (and cold) manner.

"Well, Emilia, I guess it's your turn now!" Elton declared. Emilia opened her mouth to protest, but she was interrupted with several calls for her to play something. She laughed.

"Come on, I can't!" she objected.

"But you _must_, Emilia, it's only fair, and we all would love to see you play," Elton insisted, practically dragging her to the piano. She laughed, and took a seat.

"Alright, but I'm playing something boring, simple and short," she informed them all with teasing severity as she began to play.

"_You and I, we make a grand salute  
Stare at each other, like lost little birds across the room  
And I remember the way you looked,  
I learned how to dance, but I'd never shown it to you,  
My love,_"

She sung pleasantly and with some delicacy, but the truth was that she had a rather nice voice. Not fantastic, nothing compared to someone like Eli, but it was pretty and unassuming, and unlike Jane, it didn't lack for feeling. She raised her eyes slightly and caught the gaze of George. His stare was piercing and intense, and sent shivers down her spine.

"_I know I was wrong, but you know that you'll always be,  
My love,  
Stay for a while, while our leaves are still green,  
Please, for me,"_

The chords were simple, but she played a pretty little melody to supplement the strings during the instrumental. The emotion of her voice was rising, it was pleading, almost. She didn't break her eye contact with George, but she saw an emotion in his eyes that she had never understood, but saw often. It had never been so strong, however.

"_I know I tried, but it's hard sometimes,  
The roots don't take, it takes a while,  
And you pull at the strings,  
But they're broken, it seems,  
The dance isn't over for me, no_,

_My Love,_

_I know I was wrong, but you know that you'll always be,  
My love  
Stay for a while, while our leaves are still green,  
Please, for me,"_

She finished delicately, her fingers practically fading off the piano. She hardly heard the polite applause of those around her.

"My dear, that was _very_ good," Henry announced wisely as she left the piano stool.

"That was simply wonderful, Emilia," Elton insisted, shifting so she could once more sit beside him. She blushed prettily.

"Ahhh… yeah, I stuffed up on the second verse," she laughed.

"I didn't hear anything but perfection," he declared.

"Well you're very kind, but a bit of a liar," she replied with a small grin. "So Toni, going to take the stage now? I'm not a very hard act to follow," she continued, turning to her cousin. "Toni?" she frowned, taking in the paler than usual appearance of the young woman.

"Huh?"

"Are you okay?" she questioned with concern.

"Hmm? Oh, I'm fine, just a little dizzy," she muttered, raising a hand to her forehead. Howl shifted so he could examine her face with a terribly worried expression.

"Darling? Are you – how do you feel? Are you okay?" he asked hurriedly. Everyone turned instantly with curiosity and concern.

"I'm fine, Howl, just a little tired," she insisted, trying to soothe him.

"Are you in pain? Is it the baby?" he questioned anxiously. A collective gasp was heard around the room.

"You're _pregnant_?" Taylor exclaimed in complete surprise.

"Antoinette? Talk to me, cariad, say _something_," Howl begged, his tone growing all the more nervous as Toni rapidly lost colour from her face.

"I feel like I'm going to throw up. Talking is _not_ on the menu," she replied weakly.

"I'm taking you to the hospital," he declared, shifting so he could help her off the couch.

"Should I call an ambulance?" George questioned, trying to keep his voice calm, but it was clear he too was very concerned.

"No, it's take ten minutes to get here and then another ten minutes to get back, I'll take her straight to the emergency room," he answered shortly, pulling Toni up to her feet so she was leaning against his shoulder. She looked small, weak and vulnerable.

"Well then I'll drive, you're in no fit state, Howl," he declared firmly.

"I'm fine!"

"Do you need anything? We have painkillers," Taylor offered instantly.

"We shouldn't medicate her until we know what's wrong," Howl said calmly, but his voice was rising in anxiousness.

"What's _wrong_ with her?" Eli questioned incredulously, tears slipping out of her dark eyes.

"Love, you need to calm down," Darcy whispered, wrapping an arm around his fiancées shoulder.

"I don't _want_ to calm down! Come on, we need to go to the hospital!" she cried angrily.

"_No_, Eli, I don't want you there," Howl insisted. "The hospital is the last place you should be, just go home and I'll call you when we know anything," he objected, crossing the room with Toni in tow.

"But I can help!" she insisted tearfully.

"Sweetheart, Toni needs to stay calm now, and if you're upset it's not going to –"

"Damn you Will Darcy, I'm allowed to get upset, and I'm allowed to go to the hospital if my mother is sick!" she protested angrily.

"I'll call the emergency department and tell them you're coming," James announced, rushing into the kitchen.

"Doctor Penn! You must call Doctor Penn, he's _very_ good!" Henry cried.

"No, Daddy, we've been through this, Doctor _Windsor_ is better!" Bella insisted. "Is there anything we can do, Howl?" she questioned anxiously. Howl shook his head firmly.

"No, nothing. It's probably fine – we just – we just need to be careful," he said, his voice choked and broken. George pulled Toni into his arms with ease and overtook Howl.

"You're in no fit state to drive, you need to comfort your wife until we get to the hospital," he said firmly, leaving no room for argument in his tone.

"I can drive!"

"Well so can I, and I'm overruling," George snapped. "Get the door. We'll call you all when we know something," he informed them briefly, before the trio slipped outside.

The sitting room was in silence the moment they left. No one seemed to know what to do with themselves, everyone looked anxious and very concerned.

Everyone but Jane, that is. Even _Frank_ looked mildly worried, but Jane had an expression of complete indifference on her face.

"Is she going to be alright?" Emilia questioned, turning to Jane.

"How would I know?" she replied simply.

"You're studying medicine!" she reminded her passionately. "You should know this! She's about three months pregnant, should this be happening?" she demanded angrily.

"Dizziness, fainting spells and nausea are all very common and normal signs of pregnancy. Chances are she's going to be fine, you're all overreacting," she said simply.

Emilia wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she felt the gravity of the situation. She wanted her to realise that Toni was loved by all and that she just _couldn't _be sick, she _couldn't_ die and neither could her baby, it just _couldn't_ happen, and that she was training to be a doctor – so she should have tried to do something, she should have tried to help.

"Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you _do_ anything?" Eli cried furiously. Jane blinked in surprise.

"It wasn't my place to –"

"_Damn_ your place! You should have done something, _anything_ instead of sitting there like nothing was going on!" she continued, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. Jane blinked in shock.

"Eli, sweetheart, it isn't fair to say that," William hushed his fiancée gently, pulling her slowly into his arms. She broke down with her head pressed against his chest, unashamedly crying like a little child. William softly smoothed back her hair and murmured quiet words of comfort.

"He doesn't _want_ me there," she muttered, loudly enough for those assembled to hear it as they awkwardly stared at their folded hands.

"He just wants to protect you, love. He'll call as soon as they find out anything," he assured her softly.

"Will, I think you should take her home," Emilia said quietly, stepping forwards and placing a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. He nodded.

"Will you be alright here?" he questioned. Emilia gave a small, weak smile.

"Hell, I can handle this. Just call when you find out what's going on," she requested. He gave another nod, and took his partner's hand tightly in his, ushering her out of the room.

Emilia released a long, slow breath when they had gone, before moving to the couch.

So now they waited.

~ * ~

She looked… small.

William couldn't help but notice how very tiny Elizabeth looked when she was curled up in the front seat of his car, makeup slightly smudged, and hair slightly mussed, staring glassy-eyed out onto the dark road outside the car.

"Jane said it was normal," he reminded her, breaking the silence. Her eyes flickered slightly, but she didn't acknowledge what was said. "She's probably going to be fine. And so will the baby," he added.

"Don't promise things you can't deliver, Will," she muttered quietly, turning her head away from the windscreen to glance at him. Her cheeks were still stained with streams of now-dried tears. "I don't want her to die," she admitted when another pause had fallen on them. "I love her too much. She's so strong normally, and she's always there for me…" she trailed off.

"Listen, at worst something might happen to the baby," he began carefully. "I know it sounds morbid, but… well, at least you'll still have Antoinette. She's not going to die," he said with conviction. Eli nodded.

"What if you die one day?" she asked suddenly. William nearly swerved off the road in shock, but quickly calmed himself.

"Well… I… I don't know," he confessed. "You're strong, you could survive, I think, if just to spite me," he shrugged. She gave a tiny, bitter laugh. "I don't like talking about this. Please, let's just try and forget about all this for a moment," he begged. She turned back to face him with a curious expression.

"And what would you do if I died?" she asked carefully.

He said nothing for a moment.

"I knew you were going to ask me that, but I hoped that you wouldn't," he muttered quietly. "Elizabeth, I don't know, and I can't imagine it. All I know is that I have no desire to live in a world without you, but I have a responsibility to Georgie, just like you have a responsibility to Howl and Toni. No matter the circumstance, we _owe_ it to them to be strong," he stated with as much conviction as he could muster, turning into the underground carpark of his apartment building. "Now _please_, can we forget this whole line of discussion?" he pleaded, pulling the car to a halt. Eli nodded.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. William sighed.

"No. Never be sorry – but you have to know that I can't – I can't handle losing you," he confessed brokenly. "It was hard enough to lose my parents, and then I – I thought I lost you after the musical, I can't –" he paused, lowered his head, and took a long, deep breath. "I won't be able to lose you again, and I can't handle another funeral," he admitted finally.

"I – I shouldn't have started this," Eli murmured. "I love you, you know?"

"I love you too."

"Should we go up?"

"Yes. Come on then," he nodded, opening his door and climbing out of the car, Eli doing the same. They gripped hands as they walked up to the lobby and then in the elevator.

Darcy's apartment was the same as it had been for the past three years, not huge but of a fair size, decorated with plenty of photos, prints and paintings, designed to suit his needs, which were primarily to make music and sleep. Eli found herself spending vast amounts of time there, and had stayed the night on several occasions. When Georgie was back from boarding school in the holidays she also resided there, and certainly made the house a great deal livelier.

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?" he asked attentively as Eli took a seat on the couch. She shook her head. "Maybe we should just get some sleep. It'll probably be a while before we find out anything," he offered.

"Why don't you go to bed and I'll wait up a little?" she suggested in return, with a weak little smile that was supposed to be of comfort – but was more akin to some sort of internal torment. William sighed.

"I won't be able to sleep knowing you're up," he replied, taking a seat next to her, and gently wrapping his arms around her waist. She relaxed into his arms.

"Lets talk about something else. Please. Anything," she begged quietly.

"Uhh… well I got a call today, my family's old minister wanted to give me some dates for December when he'll be free to perform the ceremony," he began slowly. She nodded. "And I called the builders about when they think they'll be finished – the main construction should be done by late November, and hopefully they'll be able to put in the new floors before The Date," he continued.

"What date did you pick?" she asked quietly.

"Well I wasn't sure, but I've narrowed it down to a few," he replied. "Uhh – the first was on the fifth, and I know they're predicting early snow but I'm not sure if we'll be able to have the winter wedding that early," he began. "Then there's the sixteenth, and I can't see any problems with that, but I was kind of more inclined for the twenty-fourth," he admitted.

"Christmas Eve?"

"I was surprised that Reverend Graham would be able to do it on Christmas Eve, but the service in the village is always midday, so it makes sense that he would be able to marry us that night," he answered, gently smoothing back her dark hair. "So… what do you say? Christmas Eve?" he questioned.

"It's… soon," she murmured quietly. "Not even six months. Could that really work?"

"I think so. I mean, Pemberley should be fit for habitation by then, and if we invite all our friends we can all spend the holiday together," he shrugged.

"But wouldn't people want to be with their families?" she frowned.

"Well Taylor's family are going away to visit her sister in Prague for Christmas anyway, James never seems to celebrate it much, and as long as we invite Henry it won't be a problem for George and Emilia, Bella and Jon are welcome too, but they're never in the country for Christmas anyway," he listed thoughtfully. "And we can invite Howl's parents too, but as long as he's got Toni he'll be perfectly happy," he added.

"Well I guess if we ask everyone about when they're free…" she muttered quietly, glancing at the coffee table where she had placed her mobile phone. It sat in silence.

"He'll call. She'll be fine."

"But what if –"

"Elizabeth, it's going to be alright," he assured her with as much firmness as he could muster. She nodded, as if ashamed at her own anxiety.

"Where will we live?" she questioned suddenly. William blinked in surprise.

"Sorry?"

"Where will we live? When we're married?" she rephrased.

"You've already asked me this, remember? Pemberley," he reminded her.

"It's just… Pemberley is very far away from here," she said quietly.

"Well we'll always visit people here," he assured her. "I mean, we'll see George and Emilia and Howl and Toni a couple of times a year, at least," he added, his tone supposedly comforting.

Eli said nothing in response. Her mind was too full to reply, fears of Antoinette and her unborn sibling were running rampant in her mind, and the sudden, seizing anxiety of what was to come.

In six months she was going to be a _wife_. She was going to be married, shipped away up North to spend the rest of her days by her husband's side – only to see her closest friends and family 'a couple of times a year'. What about the theatre? What about her little brother or sister? What about George, Emilia, Toni and Howl?

Suddenly everything seemed almost too much for her to handle. She wanted to grab William by the collar and scream 'not so soon, not so _soon_, I need time', but words refused to come. She took a deep breath, and measured out her first sentence. She had to say it. She just _had_ to speak up – he deserved the right to know how she was feeling.

"Will, I –"

"_It's not over tonight,_

_Just give me one more chance to make it right,_

_We may not make it through the night,_

_But I won't go home without you_…"

The familiar ringtone startled her from the beginnings of her statement. She almost didn't _want_ to answer it – she was scared.

"Will?" she murmured gently. He nodded.

"It'll be okay," he assured her softly, before reaching for the phone.

~ * ~

"Perhaps I should just go," Jane declared, rising from her place on the couch. Emilia resisted the urge to shoot her a dirty look – George's words were coming back to haunt her with more force than she could handle.

"You know what, I think it'd be best if I went too," Frank announced. "Uhh… give us a ring when things get a little clearer, love," he requested of Emilia, who nodded, and stared at her latest generation iphone as it sat on the coffee table before her.

"We mustn't worry, you know, if they went to Doctor Penn like I said everything will be absolutely fine," Henry interjected firmly. Bella gave a little whimper (whilst she didn't know the Llewellyn family that well, she was always willing to shed a tear at the opportune moment) at his remark, and Jon sighed wearily.

"Come on then Dad, lets get you to bed," he decided, rising from his chair to push the old man's wheelchair through to the hall. Jane and Frank followed suit.

"I suppose we had better go too, if Frank is leaving," James muttered.

"You _will_ call, right?" Taylor questioned with a firm jaw, clasping Emilia's hands tightly in hers as if for comfort whilst her husband fetched their coats.

"Of course – the moment we hear anything," she assured her with as much conviction as she could muster. "Now drive safe, I'll talk to you soon," she finished, giving her a quick kiss on either cheek before the woman departed. Jane didn't even give a 'thank you' or 'goodbye' before slipping out, and Frank only gave a brief nod and small, comforting smile. Bella muttered something about checking on the boys and left the room hastily.

The shrill ringing of her phone was quite startling. Emilia reached for it instantly, glad that the room was empty so no-one could see her embarrassing little jump of surprise.

"Em?"

"George? What's going on? Is Antoinette okay?" she questioned quickly.

"Yeah, she's fine, and the baby's okay. They said it was nothing to worry about, she just shouldn't have gone out tonight," he answered. Emilia gave a relieved sigh. "They warned her, though, they said it's going to be a pretty horrible pregnancy, and she really shouldn't be going back to work. She'll need to pretty much sit still until the baby is born," he explained.

"Oh no, she'll go crazy!"

"Yeah, I know. It's going to be quite interesting," he chuckled. "Anyway, she's going to have to stay at the hospital overnight for observation, so will Eli be alright?" he questioned.

"She's gone over to Darcy's. She was really upset – you've called her?"

"Howl is still on the phone with her. He called her the moment they found out everything is okay. They said no-one should have been worried, apparently nausea, dizziness and stomach aches are reasonably common at her stage, so it would have been best if we'd all stayed calm," he replied with a tired sigh.

"Hmm."

"What's that?" George questioned, she could practically hear the frown in his voice. "Why are you making your 'disapproving' noise?" he inquired suspiciously.

"Nothing," she sniffed. "It's just… well, I was wondering why Jane hadn't said anything. You know, she's studying to be a doctor – so I was a little suspicious, and I asked her. She said it was all perfectly normal and we shouldn't be worried," she explained slowly. "And… well, Eli kind of got a little upset," she added sheepishly.

"_How_ upset?" he questioned sternly. She sighed.

"She might have screamed at her a little," she practically winced. There was silence on the other line.

"And I'm assuming that had you not started it, there would have been no screaming," he stated poorly-hidden frustration after a short pause had enveloped the line.

"Jane _knew_ it was nothing to worry about, and she let us all get frantic! She could have calmed Howl and Antoinette down quite a lot if she'd just _said_ something!" she argued. "I didn't tell Eli to shout at her – you know what she's like, she's a little spit ball but that's what we love about her, you can't have expected anything less from her!" she continued, sensing George's agitation.

"If Jane didn't say anything at the time then she probably had a damn good reason – you should have left it alone, Emilia!" he retorted angrily.

"I just asked her if it was normal for Antoinette to feel like that, I can't control who Eli shouts out!" she cried passionately. "But Jane _knew_ that we were overreacting and she didn't say a damn word, George, she's not a bloody saint, you can't get angry at Eli and I and not at her!" she continued.

"I know her better than you do, Emilia, so I'm in a better position to judge than you," he snapped.

"Why don't you just slap me on the wrist and send me to bed without supper then?" she questioned coolly. He gave a bitter sort of chuckle.

"I'm finding it hard to believe that you've grown to be so self-centred in such a short amount of time – so I'm inclined to think that you've always been this selfish, and I just wasn't paying enough attention," he mused cruelly.

"Maybe if you'd pulled your head out of your arse you could see that I haven't changed, Knightley, but it looks like someone around here certainly _has_!" she snapped, before ending the call with more force than necessary, throwing her phone aside where it bounced harmlessly on the couch cushions. She let out a stifled sob that was more akin to a choke than anything.

She just couldn't handle two arguments with him in one night, particularly as they'd only been friends again for the past week or so. It seemed like not a day would pass without a spat of some sort.

It was exhausting.

**A/N: Haven't read this through for corrections. Song is 'Little Waltz' by Basia Bulat. Am currently speaking in short sentences as entire universe is imploding on me. Bah. Me no likie. Baaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Anyway, enjoy the chapter, I'll make an attempt to be more agreeable upon my next update.**


	16. Of Bumps and Boats

The cool night air did wonders for her cluttered brain, but for Emilia Woodhouse, things were still all in a jumble.

"Oh Haley, what am I going to do…" she sighed miserably, running a hand through her pale curls. She wanted George to talk to, she wanted him to comfort her and say that things were going to be alright, but she was still seething over their argument not twenty minutes ago – the wounds were still too fresh for her to open them again.

She really hadn't been expecting the turn of events. The argument with George in the hall, the confrontation with Jane, Antoinette's bad turn, Eli's outburst and _another_ argument with George over the phone, but she really hadn't seen the last incident coming at all.

She had been so worried about Antoinette that she hadn't taken notice that Elton was no longer in the living room when George called, but he seemingly hadn't gone home. She stumbled into the kitchen for a glass of water, only to find him with a bottle of rather expensive champagne that had been hidden in one of the cupboards, out of the wine cellar where nosey-parkers went searching, sprawled over the breakfast bench and as drunk as a sailor on leave.

"God! Elton, what on earth are you doing?" she squealed in shock, when the kitchen lights came on and illuminated his drunken form.

"Dreaming of _yoooooooooou, _my love!" he slurred, giving a rather obvious wink that turned into a surprised blink as he took in the bottle in his hand. "Ooooh, all gone!" he cried suddenly, before sniffling. He howled miserably.

"God, Elton, you need to get home. I'll call a taxi," she muttered pitifully, crossing the room to reach the landline.

"No! Only if it's a taxi _upstairs_!" he practically shouted, with another cheesy wink. "Come on, baby, lets ride the tunnel of _luuuuuuuuuurve_," he suggested drunkenly.

"It's not _me_ you want to ride the tunnel with, Elton, it's _Haley_, remember?" she pointed out sternly. Elton once more blinked in surprise.

"Ha… ley? The blondie?" he questioned stupidly. "Wazz _she_ got to do wid it?" he asked with a pronounced frown. Emilia sighed in frustration.

"You like _Haley_, not me, you're just too drunk to know your head from your arse right now," she snapped. She was too tired to deal with him. Elton instantly looked ashamed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, my love, for forgetting where my arse is, _punish me_!" he squealed pitifully, falling to his knees (and face) before her. Emilia rolled her eyes.

"Bugger off, I'm calling a taxi and you can go home to dream about your precious Haley," she stated firmly.

"Haley? What _is it_ with you and dat girl?" he questioned in irritation. "It's always _Haley, Haley, Haley_, never Elton!" he cried loudly. Emilia winced at the volume of his tone.

"Keep it down, and I'm always talking about Haley because you like her and you want to know more about her," she insisted.

"I don't _like_ Haley… she's a sheep."

Emilia couldn't believe what he had just said. Could it really be true? Could she have missed the very important fact that Elton _did not_ like Haley?

"Oh shit…" she cursed quietly.

"I lurve _youuuuu_!"

"Oh _fuck_."

Elton blinked stupidly at her.

"You're supposed to like Haley!" she cried angrily.

"Haley is a _sheeeeeeeeeeep_!" he cried wildly, shaking his head so quickly it might have fallen off. "_Baaaaaaaaa! Baaaaaaaa!_" he continued, so loud he might have woken up the whole house. She quickly reached for the phone and called the nearest taxi firm – giving the address before hanging up.

"Now you can go home, you stupid – you stupid – _man_!" she decided angrily. "And I never want to see you again, _Haley_ will never want to see you again, you played with her and I _hate_ that!" she snapped.

"I didn't _play_ with her, I did it… I did it to be near _yoooou_, my love," he informed her with a frown.

"Well you can go on right home and play the tunnel of love game with yourself, and I hope you get _carpal_ tunnel – because it's what you deserve!" she cried petulantly.

"But Emi, baby, we _belong_ –"

"Let me show you the door, Elton," she snapped finally, turning heel sharply. Elton stumbled up, leaving the empty bottle on the table as he followed her like a sick puppy, crooning of his love.

"Oh, my sweet, my love!" he sighed dreamily. Emilia gave a sharp growl of frustration as they stopped in the front hallway.

"I'm not interested. I _don't_ like you – I _never_ gave you that impression, and you certainly don't deserve Haley – she's too good for you," she spat angrily. Elton gave a pitiful whimper before she scoffed in contempt, and pulled the front door open. "Good _night_, Elton Phillips, and good _bye_," she finished curtly, practically kicking him to the curb. Elton howled pitifully as he stumbled over to the street, just as the ordered cab rolled up in impressive time. She slammed the door shut behind her as she returned to the house.

"Oh Haley… poor Haley!" she sighed sadly.

**A/N: Wow. This is the smallest chapter I think I've ever posted...**

**Sorry about that. I've only got one more assignment left of this term and then I'm **_**freeeeeeee**_**! I want to finish writing this story during the holidays so I can post it all and then focus on schoolwork. That's the plan...**

**Oh! I dyed my hair. It's a sort of mahogany, burgundy colour, so I ran around school screaming 'I'm a RANGAAAA' in glee. I really want to be a ranga (I don't know if everyone knows what this is – I think it's pretty Australian. It means a person with red hair. I love red hair.) And I got a new baby cousin, his name is Talon, and yes, I think it's weird too. **

**So go check out my blog, you can see me holding little Talon, and then me with my new hair! Yaaaaaaay!**

**http: / www . lejardindeve . blogspot . com /**

**I promise to update a little sooner, with a bigger chapter!**


	17. Of Meetings and Musings

"_I can't take my eyes off of you..._"

-Damien Rice, 'The Blower's Daughter'

Howl hated hospitals.

He absolutely, completely and totally despised them. He hadn't been in one since he had last tried to kill himself – over three years ago, before Antoinette became his wife and Eli his daughter. He hadn't anticipated coming back anytime soon – he _thought_ it would be a good six months before Antoinette would need to be rushed to hospital.

He sighed quietly as he ran his hand comfortingly along the length of his wife's arm. She shifted slightly in her sleep. She just needed to spend the night for observation – but the doctors had assured them that Polliwog was okay, that he or she was going to be absolutely fine.

He cursed himself. From the moment he had noted Antoinette's discomfort he had stopped giving a damn about his child, about his _baby_, all he had cared about was her – _she_ was the most important thing, and he would have gladly sacrificed his child so that she would be okay.

What kind of father was he? To value another's life above his own baby? He was supposed to be concerned for the _both_ of them; he wasn't meant to think about Antoinette and Antoinette only.

But that was the way it had always been. From the moment he first saw her, over six years ago, she had been… everything.

She was only sixteen when she came to England, her English was perfect and her accent a delight to behold, she was the exotic new student of Rosings Park College, and he had only been teaching there a scarce few weeks, his first position after moving from Wales.

"Another student? I can hardly remember all their names _now_!" he exclaimed in slight frustration to the head of the Arts department, Professor Lund.

"Antoinette Noëlle, she's just moved here from France. You're the only music teacher that speaks French," he shrugged simply. Howl rolled his eyes.

"My French is terrible, I'll have you know," he informed him factually. Lund shrugged.

"She'll probably be moved to a different time slot anyway, she's been put in a mainstream English class, but if the girl's grown up in Paris all her life I highly doubt she'll speak English well enough to last the term," he said simply. Howl sighed.

"Fine. Do you know what instruments she plays?"

"She's a voice major, but apparently can play a little piano and guitar, some flute," he answered. "She'll be in your class this afternoon. You can't miss her – she's Emilia Woodhouse's cousin. The family resemblance is quite obvious," he informed him. Howl frowned slightly. He taught Emilia Woodhouse in year nine music, she was capable and showed promise, but no real determination for her studies. He also had her for homeroom and knew her out of class; too, he was friends with her family and best friend, George Knightley.

"Alright. I'll do my best, but I doubt I'll remember her name," he warned. Lund nodded, and gave a brief smile.

"You'll remember the face," he assured him, before leaving the office. Howl rolled his eyes – Lund was a little odd. He played favourites in his students, based on talent, looks and intelligence. Howl tried to resist having favourites in his class as best he could.

He gathered up his papers, slid them into his briefcase, and departed his office to head to the department staff meeting with Headmistress du Bourg. He practically shuddered at the thought, she was probably the most frightening woman he had ever met.

"_Et les profs?_"

"_Il y a des bon profs, mais je détesté Madame du Bourg, elle est très zinzin_."

He resisted the urge to snigger. He spoke French tolerably, and enough to understand the whispers he heard down the hall as he passed. He glanced over to the two girls as he approached. He recognised the first – the tiny but dangerous little Miss Woodhouse, who, at the tender age of fourteen could have been the Queen of the School – had she any interest in ruling.

But he didn't recognise the second. He saw her only from behind, but she was taller than Emilia, about average height for a sixteen or seventeen year old. She was very slim, but not ridiculously so, however her school uniform wasn't exactly insulting her figure. She had hair so pale it could easily be classified as 'white', and was falling down her spine in long, silky curls. With his long strides he quickly caught up to the girls, and turned to glance towards Emilia.

"Miss Woodhouse, I trust you've completed your homework for today's lesson?" he said, interrupted their conversation.

"Well… most of it. I'll finish it before class though, I swear," she promised. He resisted the urge to chuckle, before he glanced towards her companion.

She was _very_ pretty. Quite pale, with a heart-shaped face and elegant features reflecting her French heritage, and well-set almond shaped eyes of a most extraordinary grey-blue shade, like rain or storm clouds. Her pale curls fell loosely around her face, complimenting the structure of her jaw and cheekbones. With her impossibly pale and creamy white skin, pale eyes and long pale hair, she was more akin to an angel than a sixteen-year-old girl.

"I take it that you're the new girl?" he questioned politely, before inwardly cursing himself. "I mean, uhh… _sont tu – _uhhh, _tu sont Antoine_?" he stammered through brokenly. She laughed with a brilliant, crystal laugh that only served to intensify his shame – his French really _was_ terrible.

"It's Antoinette – but call me Toni," she insisted in a delightful accent. They had stopped in the hall, and a few students were glancing towards them, particularly when the girl dropped her folder, a few brand new textbooks sliding out onto the floor. She blushed as he bent to help her pick them up. "Sorry about that, I'm dead clumsy," she apologised with a slight wince. He gave her a comforting smile.

"I'm clumsy sometimes too," he laughed kindly.

"But I'm clumsy all the time," Antoinette assured him with a nervous smile that lit up her perfect face wonderfully, her cheeks flushing red. He could definitely see the resemblance between Emilia and her cousin – they could have been sisters.

"You'll be in my class this year. My music class, that is. I'm Professor Llewellyn," he introduced himself.

"Lou… no, I can't pronounce that," she laughed.

"Your English is very good," he praised. She shrugged, and grinned charmingly.

"I've been learning since I was just a kid," she informed him.

"Uh. Well I've only been learning French for a little while. I'm very bad at it, though," he assured her.

"No, your accent is good, but…" she trailed off, before laughing again. He was quite envious of her ability to laugh – and at such little encouragement. It was quite delightful.

"I understand you've only just moved to England?" he questioned, unsure of what else to say. She nodded.

"My mother and I moved here a week ago," she answered.

"Permanently?"

"Maybe, I'm not sure," was her simple reply. "But I get to see my little cousin, so I'm happy," she added, ruffling Emilia's hair playfully. The younger girl rolled her pale eyes.

"You're only _two_ years older than me, not a hundred," she reminded her sternly.

"So, err… you sing?" he questioned Antoinette. She shrugged.

"A little. I _like_ music, but I'm not that great at it. I'll probably fail," she laughed. He gave a warm, comforting smile.

"I doubt it. You look very capable," he assured her kindly. She blushed slightly at the compliment.

"And anyway, Valerie promised to be your personal tutor," Emilia reminded her with a playful twinkle in her eye. Antoinette's blush increased.

"Valerie Kyle? She's a lower-sixth former, right?" Howl questioned curiously. "I don't teach her, but she's in my homeroom – when she can find the time in her busy schedule to show up," he stated with a slight roll of his eyes.

"What line is your homeroom on?"

"Four."

"Would you mind if I went into your homeroom class, then?" she questioned hopefully. He gave a small smile and nod.

"Of course. To be close to your cousin, right? I think that would be for the best," he answered, nodding once more.

"Well, Emi and Valerie are the only people I know here," she laughed nervously.

"Well it shouldn't be a problem to move you over, I'll have a word with the Deputy to see if he can help," he assured her. She smiled prettily.

"Thanks. That's very kind of you, Sir," she replied. "Uh, we should probably go now – Emi needs to show me where my classrooms are," she muttered.

"That would probably be best," he laughed kindly. "Umm, come by my office later – Emilia can show you where it is – I'll give you some notes on what you've missed in homeroom and music this term," he requested. She nodded.

"Thank you, Professor. I will," she promised, before gripping Emilia's hand, she turned away with a quick blush. Emilia gave him a brief grin and followed her cousin, eagerly babbling away in French.

Howl glanced curiously after the pair as they left.

Antoinette Noëlle… he was quite sure that over the course of their classes together she would prove to be interesting.

~ * ~

Toni had never seen more beautiful man in her life.

Well, aesthetically, there were more attractive men in the world than Professor Llewellyn, but his warm amber eyes, dishevelled light brown hair and rugged stubble didn't exactly make him look _bad_. He was tall, slightly slender but with a beautiful facial structure – he was… _beautiful_. She couldn't find another word to describe him.

She wrinkled her nose slightly as she watched him write notes on the difference between monophonic and polyphonic texture on the whiteboard in fifth period music class. She'd never been attracted to a man before… she had no idea what made him so different.

"Hey. You writing this down?" Leah muttered questioningly, glancing across the table. Toni blinked in surprise. "I knew it! Now I'm going to have to write it out," she sighed miserably, pulling a pen out of her bag. "You should pay more attention, I hate having to take notes myself," she hissed quietly, taking in her line of vision. "Oh. Looking at the Professor again?" she questioned teasingly.

"I was – looking at the board. I can't understand one of the words," she defended weakly. Leah gave a quiet, muffled laugh.

"Yeah, neither can I, and I speak this language," she replied with a quick grin. "You don't _like_ him, do you?" she asked with a raised brow, before laughing. "Nah, you're not into men, I forgot," she added, before Toni could get a word in. "So how are you and Valerie going? Nearly ten months, right?" she questioned, changing the subject rather quickly, ignoring the notes completely.

"Good," she answered simply, pulling a pen out from her pencil tin and beginning to scribble down the notes hastily.

"It's hard to believe you've been in this country for a year now. It feels like just yesterday you were crashing my English class," she sighed nostalgically.

"Feels like a year to me," Toni shrugged, peering over her friend's head to see the board properly.

"Planning on heading back anytime soon?" she enquired.

"Mère wants to go after Christmas, visit some of her old friends and that," she shrugged.

"Bet Val isn't happy about that, you should ask your Mam if she'll let you kip with her for the holidays," Leah advised. Toni shrugged.

"Maybe… I'm not sure. Mère probably wouldn't like that, Val isn't Catholic so she doesn't like me being friends with her," she explained. Leah laughed.

"Yeah, but if she found out that you two are a little more than friends I doubt Valerie's religion will be that important," she reminded her.

"Ladies, as interesting as I'm sure your discussion is, I don't see you both taking notes," Llewellyn's voice suddenly interrupted. Toni and Leah both blushed brightly, and frantically continued scrawling in their notebooks.

"He's such a homophobe," Leah hissed in hushed tones when he turned back to the board. "Every time he sees you and Val together he gets really weird, and he only ever busts us for talking when we mention her," she muttered conspiratorially.

"I doubt it, he just doesn't like us talking all the time," Toni muttered quietly, glancing back up to the board.

"He's a homophobe. That's what it is. He doesn't want you to be with Valerie because he's against it – and that's why he's really tough on you, because you're gay and he doesn't like it," she said firmly, finishing her statement with an enforcing fist on the table just as the bell rang for the end of the day.

"Leah Davidson and Antoinette Noëlle, please remain behind," Llewellyn requested, speaking loudly and clearly over the chatter and commotion of students rising from their chairs to leave the classroom and head home.

"Fuck. He must have heard," Leah cursed angrily.

"Now he's going to think we think he's homophobic," Toni muttered anxiously. Leah rolled her eyes.

"Well he _is_, but that's not what I'm worried about. If I don't get home before my brother he'll eat the last of Mum's chocolate cake and I'll have to starve till dinner," she sighed miserably.

"Perhaps you should have taken the cake into consideration before you spent the entire lesson gossiping," Llewellyn interjected, crossing the room to stand before the girls. "Leah, I would advise you take a little more caution in the future. As of yet I will not punish you, but because you didn't get the notes down I'd like a fifteen-hundred-word essay on the difference between monophonic and polyphonic texture in three pieces of music," he stated in his no-nonsense tone. "And just to make things difficult, none of those songs can be by Paramore," he finished. Leah's shoulders slumped.

"Yes sir," she muttered miserably.

"Now go home, and I would advise you share the cake with your brother," he directed. Leah gave a small laugh, before ducking out of the classroom as quickly as she could.

Toni lowered her eyes slowly to stare at her shoes. She knew what was going to come, and she didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to be scolded by Llewellyn, she wanted him to take an interest in her, not to criticise.

"Is it your belief that I treat you differently due to your choice of sexuality, Antoinette?" he asked calmly. She frowned slightly, and raised her head to meet his eyes.

"No. Leah just said all that stuff, but I know you wouldn't, just because I'm –"

"Different," he offered. She gave a small smile and a shrug.

"I guess that's one way of saying it," she conceded. "But… Sir, I know you'd never judge me because I like girls. You just wouldn't do that," she added. Llewellyn sighed, and ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair. He looked tired and worn – was he ill, she questioned herself?

"Antoinette, you're very young. I personally feel that you're too young to know what you want, but who you enter a relationship with is your concern," he stated calmly. "But you're right. I won't judge you for your sexuality, and I don't want you to feel that I have done in the past," he added. Toni immediately nodded.

"I guess maybe you're right, but I don't think I'm too young to know what I want. I _know_ what I want," she assured him firmly. He laughed slightly at her determination, and nodded.

"Alright. Now you had best be off home, and don't let Leah distract you in the future," he advised. She gave a short grin, picked up her bag, and slipped out of the classroom.

She sighed as she walked through the hallway which was rapidly filling with students all on their way home. Did she _really_ know what she wanted?

Was it Valerie? Or was it Llewellyn's kind amber eyes and charming smile? He was so difficult to understand, and it was so difficult for her to know what was in her heart. It was a niggling sort of feeling that was tugging on it, a sort of hinting, 'aren't you a little curious?' sensation that had been drawing her slowly closer to Llewellyn since she had first met him nearly a year ago.

She would have been greatly comforted to know that she was not alone in this sensation – Howl had been feeling it too. He often found himself contemplating his brightest little pupil. She had a lovely voice, it didn't boast great range, but there was an open, almost timid sort of quality to it, like she should have a guitar strapped around her in some Indie little underground bar, singing about coin laundries or chocolates and cigarettes. She was undoubtedly clever, to speak such impressive English after having only lived in the country for a year, and she had a good understanding of musical concepts and theory.

But there were times when his thoughts were straying from what a good student she was to things he knew he shouldn't be contemplating. Like how lovely she looked when she smiled, how brilliant her shimmering blue-grey eyes were, how simply wonderful it was to see her face everyday.

The spanner in the works, of course, was Valerie Kyle. He'd hardly noticed it at first. Valerie and Antoinette just seemed like good friends, they had met before Antoinette even started at Rosings, and were constantly seen together, laughing, having fun, but he'd never known it was more serious than just a friendship between two young girls.

Valerie was young, flighty and very much the 'troubled youth' of the school. She had short black hair cut to make her look like a boy, clear hazel eyes and certainly wasn't into the colour pink, in fact, had she not worn the school dress (on mufti days and weekends she dressed like a man, anyway), she would have easily been mistaken for a very pretty young boy. He had been slightly concerned when he noted the friendship emerging between Valerie and his favourite, he was worried she would be a bad influence on her, but apparently his suspicions, which he had dismissed, were based on truth.

It started out when he saw the pair holding hands through the traditional 'welcome to a new term' assembly after the Christmas break in Antoinette's first year, and they hadn't released their hold on each other in the hall when the period ended. All he could see was that Antoinette looked lovely and very happy; he didn't see anything sinister in her hand-holding. It took him a while to realise that perhaps there was something more in their hand-holding and seemingly innocent kisses.

And it had left him in a state of complete and utter confusion. He had no idea what he felt for the girl – but he knew that whatever it was, he _shouldn't_ feel it.

'You're too old for her,' he reminded himself. 'And too broken. What kind of young, vibrant, happy girl would want to be with a man like you? No one wants to be with someone with a _disease_ like yours,' he added almost desperately.

He shook his head and gave a small, forced laugh at even thinking about Antoinette in such a manner. She was just a student, a child, really.

~ * ~

Howl gave a hollow, bitter sort of laugh as he thought over the memories of his first acquaintance with Antoinette. He thought her beautiful even then – and her beauty had only increased. He sighed quietly as he pushed a strand of her pale hair from her cheek.

"She'll be fine, you know," a chirpy nurse informed him cheerfully. He nodded, and gave her a small smile.

"I just… worry, I guess," he shrugged, gently running his hand over her still-slender stomach where their little boy or girl grew.

"This your first?"

"We adopted a few years ago and had two miscarriages before that, but this is our first pregnancy that's gotten to three months," he sighed. The nurse smiled comfortingly.

"Well that's a good sign, three months is usually when you know things are going to be okay. I'm sure everything is going to work out well, you look like you'd make a great Daddy," she assured him, flashing her pearly white teeth.

"I hope so," he laughed, turning his gaze back to his wife.

"How long have you been married?" she enquired curiously.

"Uhh… about three years now. We were together for another three before that," he answered, wishing the inquisitive woman would leave him alone with his thoughts, but his politeness didn't allow him to pursue that hope.

"Six years? Wow, that's really impressive. I've only been with my husband for two – we got married in March," she boasted happily.

"Congratulations," he replied with a genuine smile. She practically giggled.

"I'm so excited about it. I was going to keep my name but I just _love_ telling people that I'm _Mrs_ Graham, it's such a thrill," she sighed dreamily. "Did your wife keep hers, or take yours?" she asked curiously.

"She took mine, but the girl we adopted, Eli, she took both," he explained.

"Got any ideas for names yet?" she asked excitedly, gesturing towards Antoinette, where he still rested his hand, as if he could protect his wife and child from the evils of the world with his flesh and blood alone.

"A few, nothing set in stone yet. We'll think of something," he replied with a small smile.

"Well I had best get back to work. I hope things work out well," she finished chirpily. Howl acknowledged her sentiment with a smile and nod before she left them alone in silence.

He continued to cast his mind back to distract himself from the reality of seeing the most precious thing in the world to him lying on a hospital bed. It didn't matter that she was going to be okay, he wanted her home with him where he could hold her and never let her go.

~ * ~

In Rosings Park College, it was a custom that all students going into their last year of high school would use one of their free periods to catch up with a specific teacher, to ensure that they were handling the strains of their classes. Students were allowed to pick which teacher they would meet with once a week, and it seemed quite natural to Antoinette that she would pick Professor Llewellyn.

"You're a bit of a teacher's pet, you know," Valerie laughed as they wolfed down hot chips in the student lounge.

"I am not!" Toni objected.

"You are too, you never miss a music lesson or turn up late for homeroom, you always talk to him in the halls, and Leah says that you answer every question before he has a chance to even ask it," she teased, her dark eyes twinkling playfully. "She said he put his hand on your shoulder the other day, too," she added meaningfully. Toni flushed pink.

"I had to go up in front of the class to write a melody shape on the board, and he said I did a good job, that's all," she defended. Valerie laughed, but her tone was hinted slightly with suspicion. Toni felt herself scowling. "He's just a teacher, Val, and I'm not his 'pet', he's just really cool and nice," she added petulantly. Valerie nodded.

"I know, I'm not worried," she answered with a simple shrug and another chip. "Doesn't bother me. It's not like you'd ever be into him, anyway," she reminded herself, grinning charmingly.

The truth was that just about every girl in the school had a thing for Professor Llewellyn, and he was completely oblivious to it. He was young, attractive, caring and intelligent, very much crush-material for young girls. Toni hadn't seen herself every having a 'thing' for her teacher, he was a _man_, to begin with, not to mention a good decade older than her, but she couldn't help the fact that occasionally she _did_ tend to think about him a little too much… She was always eager to bring his name up in conversation with her friends, and when someone else mentioned him she took up the topic with incredible zealousness. She was in the middle before she knew it had all begun – she was developing a thing for Professor Llewellyn.

"You right?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," Toni assured her partner with a hastily pasted on smile as she contemplated the issue before her. "Umm… so who did you pick for your mentor teacher?" she questioned, changing the subject quite quickly. She hardly heard a word Valerie said, she quickly sunk back into her thoughts.

_But you like girls, Toni! Not men!_

I know, but he's different. He's very handsome and so sweet and intelligent…

_He's a man. And he's older than you. And you've got a girlfriend. And he's your teacher._

Don't you think I know that? You don't have to remind me!

_Hey, don't get upset about it. _

But I _am_ upset about it! I don't _want_ him to be too old or too male or my teacher; I want him to be –

_Something else. Something a little closer to Valerie's place in your life?_

I couldn't do that to Valerie. I love her.

_But what if you love Professor Llewellyn too? Wouldn't THAT make things interesting_?

"Seriously, you're totally spacing out. I think you're going crazy," Valerie stated firmly, practically shaking Toni out of her trace.

"Oh. Sorry, I was just thinking," she muttered with brightly flushing cheeks.

"Are you busy this afternoon? Want to come over to my place? My parents won't be home till later," Valerie suggested with a small smile, reaching for Toni's hand across the couch cushions.

"I don't know, Mère was kind of –"

"Toni, you've been freezing me out heaps these days, what's wrong?" Valerie questioned with exasperation.

"But I'm not –"

"But you _are_. You're always practising music or studying or reading up some book that Llewellyn suggested, I mean, I know you have to do your schoolwork and all but this is just insane!" she objected, growing quickly upset. Toni wanted to hang her head; she _had_ been slowly freezing Valerie out.

"Listen, I'm sorry, it's just… hard, you know? I have to do tons of extra work to catch up, and it takes me longer because my English still isn't perfect," she explained, but she knew the words that fell from her lips were false. She had plenty of time to spare – she had just been seeing less of Valerie because ever since she realised that her semi-friendship with Professor Llewellyn was developing into a bit of a crush.

"I know," Valerie sighed quietly. "I'm sorry, it's just… I kind of get the feeling that maybe –" she paused, and gave another sigh. "Don't worry about it," she laughed. "So can you come over this afternoon?"

"Of course I will," Toni promised, giving her girlfriend a warm smile, which seemed to cheer her up considerably.

But Toni didn't really feel like smiling on the inside.

**A/N: Yes, I know, you hate me... I only upload a tiny little chapter last week and this one is all about Howl and Toni... I'm sorry... But the next one has some good George and Emilia, I promise! Ahh! Don't hurt me! And now that I'm on holiday (YES! WHOOO!) I'll be writing more and hopefully updating more, but I have tons of work I need to do before I go back to school, so don't expect a lot. Sorry... Anyway, I love you all, please review, my pretties ^__^**


	18. Of Sleepovers and Sweet Memories

"_And it's the darkest side of my heart that dies when you come to me,  
And it's the golden ticket I win when you kill my enemies,  
I hear the farthest cry and the softest sigh when I'm empty,  
But if you leave me I'll get me gone and drown face down, muddy in the water"  
__-_The Middle East, 'The Darkest Side'

Haley's reaction was as bad as Emilia could have expected.

The poor girl wept and moaned and cursed with more dramatics than she had anticipated, she refused to come into work and ate ice-cream for a week on her lemon-coloured couch. The only time when she _wasn't_ weeping or stuffing her face with high-fat sugar-based products was when she was sleeping.

"Oh, but I dream about him, Miss Woodhouse!" she sighed miserably over the phone a full two weeks after the party.

"Well you shouldn't, he's an idiot and not worth your attention," she decided in firm response as she readied herself for bed.

"But who will love me _now_, Miss Woodhouse?"

"Haley, you don't need a man. I'm done with matchmaking – you can fall in love with whoever you choose," Emilia replied simply.

"But I _want_ a boyfriend!"

"I'm not saying you can't have one, but I don't want to set anyone up, not again."

"_Please_, Miss Woodhouse?" Haley begged.

"I can't Haley, I'm sorry. And I really should get to bed; I've got to go to work tomorrow. I'll call you in the morning, okay?" she said finally. Haley muttered something akin to an agreement, and the phone was hung up.

It had been a just over two weeks since the incident at Bella and Jon's going-back-to-America-party, and which meant two weeks since she had spoken to George. She wanted to crawl into his bed and apologise, but she had nothing to apologise for! She didn't understand the root of his crankiness, but she knew she hadn't done anything wrong, and didn't deserve to be punished for no reason.

The task of cheering up Haley had turned to Emilia. It was convenient for them that Elton, in his shame, had taken a hastily planned trip to the States, and was not to return for quite some time, so there was no risk in their bumping into him in public, which would of course encourage Haley to burst into tears immediately.

Eli had been spending most of her time at home with Howl and Toni after the incident the week before, and William had never been much for conversation. She didn't even have Frank to cheer her up – he had been mysteriously disappearing into the city each day, and when pressed, he replied simply that he was doing some 'shopping'. She was very much left to her own devices – and she didn't think she could stand another second of it.

She sighed. If George didn't say anything by tomorrow night, she decided, she would take the initiative and say something herself. With that determined thought in mind, she slipped into her bathroom to clean her face and brush her teeth before bed.

"Wh – What are you doing here?" she questioned in surprise when she returned to her bedroom.

George sat atop her bed, his legs crossed, wearing a pair of daggy old plaid pyjama bottoms and a faded band shirt. He looked very out of place on her Chinese silk doona, and by his expression, he was very aware of that fact.

"What, so you can hijack my bed in the middle of the night but I can't sit on yours at a reasonably appropriate hour?" he questioned sarcastically, before giving her a small, lopsided smile. "Listen, I'm –"

"You had better be trying to say that you're sorry, George."

"I am. I _am_ sorry, Em. I shouldn't have said what I said," he confessed. Emilia bit the inside of her mouth – she wanted to throw herself at him and hug him as tightly as she could, but she couldn't just forget his words. She was sick of pretending that what he said didn't hurt her.

"And?"

"And? What more do you want?" he questioned with a shrug. "I'm sorry. I was upset and I shouted at you. You know who I am – you know I have a temper, and I respect you too much to pretend around you," he said simply.

"You _respect_ me?" she laughed bitterly. "Bloody hell George, I find that a little hard to believe," she practically snapped.

"We both have different opinions on some things, Emilia, but that doesn't mean we can't still be friends," he tried to reason.

"Y – You went _crazy_! You said horrible things and you've not made up for them!" she objected.

"I _did_! I just said I was sorry!" he defended angrily.

"No, you said you were sorry for _saying_ those things, you didn't say they weren't true!"

"I've apologised, Emilia, you're interested in a denial," he replied coolly. "And I was right. You tried to set Haley up with Elton Phillips and it blew up in your face. You can't continue to toy with people's lives, it only hurts people," he snapped. "I don't want to _fight_ with you anymore, Em! I'm sick of bloody fighting all the time – why can't we just forget this and agree to disagree?" he questioned wildly, rising up from the bed to stand before her. Emilia turned her head away, determined to remain steadfast. "Aren't you going to say anything?" he asked, perturbed by her silence.

"I don't have much to say," she muttered out with as much determination as she could muster.

"You always have something to say."

"And yet you _never_ understand!" she said angrily, turning to face him, her pale eyes filled with anger. "I'm not a child that you can calm down with a few kind words anymore, George! I'm an adult and I deserve to be treated like one by you!" she demanded. George sighed tiredly, and stepped forwards. She flinched, but didn't pull away as he wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her to his chest. He rested his chin atop her head, after pressing a small, gentle kiss to her brow.

"Neither of us have the capacity to hate each other, Emilia. Try as we might we could never let this be it – we may fight but our friendship is more important than that," he said calmly.

"I _know_, but I can't just ignore –"

"I'm not asking you to pretend I'm a saint, I'm asking you to forget some of the stupid things I say. You're no saint either, Em, I'm only asking what you ask of me," he rationalised.

Emilia bitterly buried her face against his chest to stifle her response. She hated his rationality – how could she be angry with him? She felt petty and ridiculous, but his insults still stung painfully. There was no middle ground, nowhere to compromise, and she didn't know what her next step could possibly be.

"We can bring this up in our next argument, but for now, Em, please, let's just forget this. I can't handle it much longer," he sighed finally.

"This is becoming a bit of a tradition," she murmured, pulling slightly away from him. He laughed.

"I'm sure they'll make commemorative coins," he replied, his eyes twinkling playfully. "So? Will you put up with me?" he questioned. She nodded.

"I'm not a game, George."

The playful glimmer in his eyes disappeared, and his smile faded to one of bitter sweetness.

"I know. Trust me, Em, I know," he assured her finally, watching as she pulled the sheets down on her bed, and slid between them. She pulled them aside to make a place for him, and he silently lay down beside her, as if their movements were a dance that had been rehearsed a hundred times over.

"I did miss you, George," she admitted quietly. He gave another small smile over his shoulder, before he shifted over the impossibly large bed so his head rested against her shoulder, and their hands could be entwined with greater ease.

"Night, Em."

"Good night George."

~ * ~

"How are you feeling?" Howl questioned almost timidly as he reached out, placing a gentle hand on his wife's shoulder.

"Fine. You'll be late for work," she muttered simply, her tone devoid of emotion. She sighed, and shifted to find a comfortable position, made nearly impossible by the small but steadily growing bump on her stomach.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather I stayed home today? You look pale, love," he replied with concern, placing is hand on her forehead. "You're still quite warm. I think I'll –"

"Howl, _go to work_, there's no point hanging around here, I'll be absolutely fine," she snapped firmly, taking hold of a pillow and squeezing it to her chest as she lay on her side. She refused to meet his eyes, and for that he was glad, he knew he would have a very pitiful expression.

"It'll be alright. The morning sickness can't last forever, by January Polliwog will be born, and when you're ready, you can find another company," he assured her gently.

"That's easy for you to say. It's _not_ easy to find a new job," she retorted with frustration.

"You know that you don't even need to work if you don't want. My salary would be enough to support us, and what with all the savings we have, we could afford to have a dozen babies and you won't need to work," he reminded her quietly, sliding across on the bed to sit beside her.

"I want to work."

"Then start your own company. You don't need the Vermin – you're a hundred times more talented than he is," he urged her gently. "Antoinette, _please_, just talk to me," he begged desperately.

"Howl, I just had to quit my job because I'm too sick to leave the house and I don't qualify for leave, I _don't_ want to talk about this!" she snapped, sitting up sharply. She winced and paled with the sudden movement, placing a hand on her stomach, as if to remind herself that her baby was there. She sunk back into the pillows as Howl looked on helplessly.

"I – I know you're sick, but the doctors said it'll get better," he objected, as if to convince himself, rather than her. "Cariad, is there something –" he tried to begin, before he was interrupted by her small sniffle.

"I hate this. I hate all of this. I hate it, I _hate_ it," she admitted pitifully, pulling her knees up beneath her chin. "I hate being sick. I've never felt so horrible in my life, e – everything is _wrong_," she practically sobbed. "I don't want to talk to anyone, I don't want to do anything, I _hate_ this and I don't even know why. I don't – I don't _know_, I just don't –"

Howl pulled her into a tight embrace before she could continue. She sobbed against his chest, and he simply held her.

"I'm sorry," she muttered finally, after a good five minutes of tears.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. You're under a lot of strain, there's nothing wrong with the way you feel," he assured her quietly, stroking her hair back with gentle hands.

"You want a baby and I – I messed up twice trying to give you one. I don't want to mess this up too, but I – I –"

"Antoinette, don't you _dare_ continue that thought – I love you, I love our baby and I'm not expecting anything. If it were between you and Polliwog I would pick _you_," he said firmly. "If our baby dies I'll be heartbroken, but I won't stop loving you. I didn't stop loving you five years ago when – _it_ happened, and there's nothing that can stop me from feeling the way I do about you now," he assured her with great vehemence.

"Is this how you feel all the time? When you're in a mood?" she questioned softly. He sighed, gently stroking her back in an act of comfort.

"Sometimes. But knowing that I have you has always been a bit of a lifesaver," he replied with a small, gentle smile. "It's not often that _I _get to comfort you, my dear. You always seem to be the strong one," he laughed.

"I'm not as strong as I'd like. If I were, then I wouldn't feel so sick all the time, and Polliwog would be okay," she muttered ashamedly.

"Polliwog _is_ okay. And you are strong – you're taking all the hits so our baby doesn't have to," he reminded her. "Antoinette, you're going to be such a wonderful mother," he sighed.

"And you're going to be a wonderful father," she praised. He laughed.

"Maybe. We'll see," he chuckled in reply. Toni gave a tiny smile.

"I feel a bit better," she said finally. Howl grinned.

"Well so do I."

~ * ~

"Georgios! I _told_ you to get ready!" Simone Miller-Knightley snapped angrily as she stormed in her son's bedroom. He sat lying on his belly, sprawled across the floor, peering over black letters with intense curiosity. "Where is Doula? She's supposed to be looking after you!" she questioned with irritation as he son scrabbled up to obey his mother's wishes.

"I told her to go away. I wanted to read," Georgois, or George, as he preferred to be known, replied bravely. "And I don't want to go to the Woodhouse's. I don't care if they have a new baby," he objected with an obstinate pout.

"You _will_ go, and I'll have no more objections. Fetch your coat, we're leaving in three minutes," she snapped, turning heel and storming from her son's bedroom.

George sighed miserably, and closed his novel. And it had just been getting exciting, too!

He made his irritation well known by stomping down the stairs of his mother's grand house, which had recently been invaded by a stepfather and stepbrother. He liked his new sibling Jon, and his stepfather wasn't so bad, but George was quite certain that he wouldn't last.

"Wow. You look excited," the twelve-year-old Jon drawled sarcastically. For a boy of so few years, he was a bit miserable.

"Hey, you should be thrilled, you get to see Bella," George retorted. Jon winced.

"She's so _annoying_. Why does your Mum want us to go see the Woodhouses anyway? It's not like babies are really rare or anything," he exclaimed miserably.

"You two should lighten up. You look positively dreadful," interrupted Marcus, Jon's stepfather. He had a laughing smile and eyes that lit up pleasantly, but most importantly (to Simone, at least) he had a very large bank balance. He ruffled his stepson's dark hair affectionately, Jon ducking out of his reach before he could receive a similar display of fatherly love. "Babies are lovely. They're pink and squirmy and require constant care – but it's very much worth it. You'll have your own babies one day, you know," he continued with his usual laughing grin. Jon make a retching noise.

"As if. Babies are like shaved puppies that have to wear a diaper for years. _I_ don't want one," he objected.

"And what about you, George? Going to have kids when you're all grown up?" Marcus asked his stepson pleasantly. George shrugged.

"I doubt it. Jon is in love with Bella, and there aren't many other girls around here," he teased. Jon rolled his eyes.

"I am _not_ in love with Bella. She can go jump off a bridge for all I care," he snapped.

"Jon, what an awful thing to say!" exclaimed Simone as she traipsed down the staircase in a deceivingly pleasant frock. "Bella is a sweet girl, all Woodhouses are sweet. And this new little Woodhouse girl will be just delightful, I'm sure," she added.

"Hmm. Perhaps when she's a bit older George might be interested," Marcus laughed. Simone's eyes shone with possibility.

"Oh, wouldn't that be lovely? Uniting the two families, after all, we're already like family anyway," she sighed.

"That's gross. She's a baby," George objected.

"I'm not talking about tomorrow, George, but give it a good twenty years or so, and she's a Woodhouse, so I'm sure she'll be absolutely stunning," Marcus clarified.

"Yeah, if she's not still in diapers by then," Jon sniggered.

"Quiet, boys, we need to head over now, Sophia is expecting us," Simone snapped finally, interrupting their amusement.

The boys reluctantly followed Simone out to the car with poorly concealed smirks, but said nothing on the short car trip over to the Woodhouse estate. No jokes were made as the piled out of the brand new Aston Martin, and no laughter escaped them as the rung the front door. A familiar maid greeted them with a warm smile and took their coats, huddling them into house.

"Sophia! Oh, darling, you look fantastic!" Simone exclaimed excitedly as they were ushered into the nursery, where the family could be found. Sophia was seated in a large, comfortable looking rocking chair, wrapped in shawls and surrounded by gifts, seemingly from every individual in the hemisphere. Nappies, teddy bears and blankets littered the room so much so that the cheerful pink and blue walls were almost completely disfigured by presents.

"Hi Jon! I guess you've come to see the baby, huh?" Bella greeted eagerly, wheeling around with incredible speed when the party entered the room. Jon almost winced with the attention. "She's _so_ cute. She opens her eyes and everything. I think she's going to be really smart," she continued, speaking so quickly that her sentence became a jumbled blur of words.

Simone immediately flew down onto Sophia, Marcus stepped over to Henry to engage in some masculine discussion, and Jon was dragged over to speak with Bella within seconds, leaving George quite abandoned. He curiously peered at the elaborate bassinette that was the focus of the room. Layers of white and pink lace fell down from the ceiling around a perfect little hand-made bed for the newest member of the Woodhouse clan. He took a tentative step forwards, and another, and another.

She was smaller than he had expected. He'd never been so close to a newborn baby, having no cousins or siblings with which to get acquainted. But she was... _tiny_. Tiny, pink and oddly proportioned, with a big head on a tiny body, a few wisps of white hair and impossibly big blue eyes, bluer than he had ever seen before. She wore a pink and white onesie with tiny baby socks and a floral printed blanket.

"Isn't she just the sweetest thing in the world?" Sophia sighed happily as she joined George in gazing at the little babe.

"Yeah. She is," he conceded quietly. Sophia leant over and took the baby in her arms, before thrusting it towards George with excitement. "What? I can't – but she's so small!" he exclaimed in surprise, holding tightly onto the child in the fear that he would drop her.

He couldn't describe the feeling of suddenly having this warm weight in his arms that was gazing up at him with unblinking blue eyes. He was filled with a sense of – well, he didn't even know _what_ it was. He just wanted to wrap her up in a fluffy blanket and protect her from the rest of the world. She was tiny and precious and his heart swelled instantly with love for her.

"She's pretty special, huh?" Sophia laughed, delighting in his bewildered expression.

"She's really... really something," he conceded with a murmur. "What's her name?"

"Emilia. 'Emilia Odette Renée Woodhouse'. Doesn't that sound pretty?"

"It does. It suits her," he conceded, adjusting his hold on her so her head rest in the crook of his arm. He smiled as she made an adorable gurgle. "Hello, Emilia. I'm George. I think we're going to be very important to each other," he declared.

"You'll probably lose interest in her tomorrow, George," Simone laughed.

"No. Not with Emilia, she's so small, and I think she needs a guardian," he replied firmly, before turning back to the baby. She smiled. She probably wasn't even aware of what she was doing, but her smile instantly filled him with a warm glow. "I promise, Emilia, I'll be your friend, your guardian, and you'll be mine. Just you and us against the world, huh?" he proposed quietly. Emilia gave another happy gurgle and a smile.

"Now isn't that just the sweetest thing?" Sophia sighed dreamily as she watched her precious little baby being held by the young boy she was growing to be quite fond of.

"Hmm. Marcus joked about them becoming an item in twenty-years," Simone replied, sparing one of her seldom-used smiles in gazing at her son.

"I don't think that's such a joke, you never know what could happen," Sophia giggled. "Well, he's a good boy, at least I know she'll be taken care of," she reasoned.

George pretended he couldn't hear the laughter of the two women behind him.

"Hear that, Emilia? Your mother knows I'll always take good care of you," he informed her. Emilia blinked silently. "Well, I'll add that to the promise then. I'll always take care of you from now until the day I die," he decided suddenly.

Under normal circumstances, he would have laughed at himself to realise how silly he was acting. But with little Emilia in his arms, well, he felt like a different person entirely.

"Hmmm... why are you smiling?" Emilia questioned sleepily twenty-one years later. George smiled as he glanced over to his companion whilst she awoke herself.

"I was just thinking about the first time we officially met," he replied simply. "Go back to sleep. You don't need to go to work for hours," he added, glancing to the clock by her bedside table and the still-dark sky outside her windows as the morning prepared to go into dawn.

"I can't sleep. You're staring at me weirdly," she muttered, allowing her eyes to droop downwards once more. He laughed.

"No I'm not. Now go to sleep. You're annoying me," he commanded. She gave a small grin, but before she could reply with some smart comment she had already fallen back into slumber.

A lot had changed in the past twenty-one years. She had grown, learnt, seen, explored, and he had been by her side each step of the way. He hated to think that he was becoming unneeded to her. He didn't want to think that she was growing up, moving on from her old friend Knightley, but with each little fight it was becoming more and more obvious that they were drifting apart. He shifted as close to her as he dared, and slowly began to breathe in the fruity smell of her shampoo, until he felt like he had filled himself with her scent.

"Just us against the world still, huh?" he whispered quietly to her silent form. He closed his eyes, and took another deep breath. "Just us..." he murmured, releasing the breath, and drifting back into sleep.

**A/N: At the moment there's not much plot development, but that will come soon. I'm on holidays! Whooooooop! More time to write! There's some plot development next chapter, and things will be sped up quite quickly in only a few chapters. I predict this being anywhere from thirty chapters to forty, at the most. And if I stop being lazy, I'll be able to update sooner! Joy! **

**Oh, and because a lot of you liked the flashbacks, there will be more coming! I put one in for George in this chapter, but in chapter twenty you get to see just how the Toni/Llewellyn relationship _really_ started. Yays!**


	19. Of Pianos and Texans

"Nellie, I'm going to head out for the afternoon. Will you be alright to handle things?" Emilia questioned, calling her assistant into the office as she shut down her laptop.

"Of course. You go, things will be fine," Nellie assured her with a weak smile. Emilia sighed.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on? Is it about that guy? Edward?" she questioned with a raised brow. Nellie had been looking miserable ever since she returned to London.

"There's nothing going on between Edward and I. He's married, Em, nothing can happen," she replied, attempting another smile, as if to assure her she was fine.

"But hasn't he been separated from his wife for years now? It's some sort of secret, right?"

"It's - his mother controls everything in his life. Financially he's completely dependent, he can't afford to go against her wishes and marry who he likes, or he'll have nowhere to live, and no trust-fund to help him," she muttered quietly.

"And how's Marianne?"

"She's getting worried. She hasn't heard from Danny for a while, we aren't really sure what's going on," Nellie explained, before giving her third attempt at a smile. "But it's fine. We'll be fine. Now you go, I can take care of everything," she assured her firmly. Emilia sighed as she rose to her feet, and slid her laptop into her Louis Vitton brown leather case. "Where are you off to?"

"I've got to go visit my Dad and Henrietta Bates, then I'm going to swing by the theatre. I'll take Eli home and see how my cousin is doing," she answered, straightening up the files littering her desk, before she swung her bag over her shoulder. "Alright, you call me if you need anything, right? I'll be here in ten seconds," she finished. Nellie gave her first small, albeit genuine smile as she nodded.

"Of course. Now go, you have a lot planned for this afternoon," she commanded. Emilia gave a quick grin before she slipped out of the office.

She had awoken early that day to see George gazing at her with a quiet smile before she drifted back off into sleep. When she awoke he was gone – and for some reason that feeling had frightened her deeply. She felt a strong desire to slip back into her normal routine to shake the ill-feelings his sudden absence had caused.

She stopped into her old home to quickly visit her father and make sure he was keeping well before heading over to Henrietta Bates. She didn't look forward to the prospect of seeing Jane again, but she hadn't seen Henrietta in over two weeks, and she knew she was being unfair.

"Oh, Miss Woodhouse! Oh, how wonderful, I was beginning to think you'd quite forgotten about little old me!" Henrietta babbled anxiously as she was greeted at the door, her eyes echoing a sense of insecurity. Emilia instantly felt guild flood her.

"I'm sorry, Henny, but things have just been so busy recently. I just wanted to stop in and see how you were keeping," she explained. Henrietta's eyes lit up with relief and eagerness.

"Oh, well you _certainly_ picked a splendid day to visit, what a surprise we've had! A _very_ special delivery just came a little while ago!" she explained excitedly. Emilia raised a brow in surprise.

"Really? What is it?" she questioned, following the woman through the hallway of the flat to the sitting room.

"A _piano_, Miss Woodhouse! Isn't that just wonderful?" she cried happily.

And there was indeed a piano. Against a wall next to the television was a very nice Julius Feurich upright in a darkly varnished walnut wood, with gold candle-holders and ornaments. It looked rather out of place in the smallish sitting room, but it also brought something to the apartment that made it very special.

"It's beautiful. George has a Feurich grand in his apartment, they're an excellent make," she commented appreciatively.

"I know," came a cool voice from the arched doorway leading to the kitchen. Emilia turned to see Jane regarding her with a cool expression.

"I wasn't implying you didn't know, I was just – don't worry," she began, before stopping herself. She didn't feel up to getting into an argument with Jane. Completely ignoring her, Jane stepped across the room to the piano, and promptly sat down to play some miserable song. "Who sent it?"

"Well _that's_ the thing – we don't know! We think it _must_ be Jessica, from America, you know, but we aren't sure," Henrietta babbled. "I mean, who else could it be? We must send her a note, Jane, dear, thanking her for such a lovely gift," she declared, turning to her niece.

"Yes, Aunt," Jane muttered simply, before returning to her playing.

Emilia considered just _who_ could have sent such a gift. If it were her friend, wouldn't she have sent a letter of explanation? Wouldn't they _know_ it was from her? She allowed her mind to ponder the options. It couldn't be anyone from Rosings Park, as she wasn't exactly the most popular of people around, so it _had_ to be someone from America.

And then she realised. Hadn't Frank mentioned something about her friend Jessica's husband? Something Dixon? He'd alluded to some sort of relationship between the two in the past – could it be that _Dixon_ sent her the piano as a gift of love?

"A gift of love?" Frank exclaimed in surprise a few nights later when they went out for dinner at a noodle bar just out of the city. He laughed, as if to himself, and gave a secretive smile. "Well, you've convinced me. I'm now certain of it – it was a token of affection and from now on will be known as the 'Love Piano'," he chuckled. Emilia rolled her eyes.

"You're not taking this seriously. You mentioned that something might have gone with Jane and Dixon, and it seems only logical to me! I mean, who else would send her a piano?" she questioned rhetorically. Frank shrugged.

"Beats me. If _I _want to send a girl a gift, I'll call stop by a florists and give her whatever they flog me for. A piano seems a bit much," he shrugged, before grinning.

"Well he must really love her then," Emilia reasoned. He sniggered into his larger.

"Well, I would say so," he replied with a cheeky smile.

Frank's cryptic answer was confusing, but it did serve well to confirm Emilia's suspicions. It certainly explained a great deal of Jane's behaviour, and secretly pleased her. She felt relieved to know that Jane wasn't out to take George from her.

"He_lloooooo_! Are you listening?" Antoinette questioned her cousin loudly, breaking her reverie. Emilia snapped out of her trance immediately.

"Sorry about that," she winced. "I was just... thinking. But please continue. How are you feeling?' she asked attentively. Toni rolled her eyes and pushed a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ears, crossing her legs beneath her on the comfortable armchair in the lounge room. She had been permitted to go downstairs in the afternoons, when she generally felt the least life-threateningly ill, as long as she had someone around her at all times.

"I'm going crazy. You have to get me out of here," she moaned miserably.

"I can't! Howl would kill me, you know how protective he is," she reminded her. Toni rolled her eyes and reluctantly nodded.

"I _know_, but I've just been so bored. He's really very sweet, but I want to go outside, I want to go jogging again, I want to go back to work, I'm sick of being sick," she practically pouted. "All I've been doing is reading the millions of books he's bought for me about pregnancy. All of them agree that I can't do anything enjoyable until this kid is in its sixties," she explained. "I mean, he's been fantastic, and so has Eli, but I'm just... _bored_," she added with great exasperation.

"Relax, you should be enjoying being lazy. And it's not like you're not doing _anything_," she reminded her. Toni snorted sarcastically.

"I have about three clients and all I'm doing is making flyers for them, Em. I'm not exactly running a lucrative business. I'm not even running a business."

"That doesn't matter. Take up knitting. Paint the nursery," she suggested.

"I _would_, but Howl thinks the fumes will hurt Baby and I. I've _designed_ the nursery, it's all in sketchbooks though. I don't even know when I'm going to be able to get out and do some shopping for the little rugrat, the Quacks don't want me leaving the house for a while yet," she sighed, before muttering something beneath her breath in discomfort, and shifting her position on the armchair.

"Oooh, is it kicking?"

"Not really. Just... kind of like someone is tickling me from the inside. I won't feel a kick for a few weeks," she shrugged.

"Have you told Howl?"

"About the internal tickles?" she questioned with a laugh. "Yeah, he got so excited that he pretty much stuck his face against my stomach for the next twenty-four hours. He couldn't feel anything though," she explained.

"Is it... weird? Being pregnant?" Emilia enquired suddenly. Toni laughed.

"Why, you and Frank thinking of starting a family?" she questioned dryly. Emilia rolled her pale eyes. "Really weird. My stomach is getting a little bit bigger every morning, everything hurts, I only eat weird things at weird times, I throw up _all_ the time, and I can't even breathe without Howl jumping up and down with a cup of green tea and a blanket. Not to mention the fact that there's an alien inside my stomach," she laughed.

"Wow, you make it sound so thrilling," Emilia said sarcastically, her pale eyes twinkling with amusement. Toni gave a small smile.

"In some ways it is. It's really cool. I'm scared shitless, but when I'm _not_ crying or throwing up or eating ice-cream and sweet chilli sauce, I can sit back and think... _wow_. There's a person inside me," she laughed. Just as Emilia was about to respond, they heard the front door open and close, and footsteps coming up the hall.

"Oh goodie, is it a party?" Eli questioned pleasantly, flopping down on the couch nearest to Toni.

"How was school, hun?"

"Meh, okay. I just had lectures today, so I was running the risk of zoning out every two minutes," she shrugged simply, rolling over so she was staring right at Toni's stomach. "Hello Baby, how was your day?" she enquired curiously.

"Does she do this all the time?" Emilia questioned laughingly. Toni nodded.

"They all do. Howl does it every ten minutes, but even Will has started talking to my stomach. It's very funny, if not a little weird," she explained with a grin, gently patting the gentle bump on her stomach.

"Well, I've started designing some maternity wear for you, I was actually on my way to drop the designs off at the manufacturers before I decided to stop in," Emilia informed her. "And of course stuff for the bub. I'm getting everything in pink _and_ blue, just to be sure it's not running around naked from its first ten minutes," she explained.

"Howl is convinced it's a boy. I think so too, but I'm telling him I think it's a girl just to mess him up," she laughed.

"Which does he want?" Emilia enquired.

"A girl of course, just like our lovely little Eli," Toni replied, leaning over to ruffle the young woman's dark curls.

"Nup, I think he wants a boy to even it out," Eli objected.

"That's just because you want a brother," Emilia sniggered.

"Perhaps. But I really think it'll be a boy," she assured her.

"Yeah. I think so too. Another girl would be nice, and I know he really _would_ prefer a girl, but it'll be a while after this little one, I can tell you that much," Toni laughed, patting her stomach affectionately.

"Does Will want kids?"

"Hmm. I think he does. But we want Pemberley to be set up and making profit before we have any kids," Eli answered. "And what about you then? I can't remember if you were drastically opposed to the idea of children or if you were willing to chop off an arm for one," she challenged, turning back to her companion.

"I'd need to find someone to put up with me first," she laughed. "Yeah, I do want kids. One day. I think it'd be nice," she shrugged simply.

"I can name a certain someone who would be willing to do the honours," sniggered Toni.

"Some_one_? I think the majority of _England_ is eagerly sitting in _that_ cue," Eli laughed. Emilia rolled her pale eyes.

"Hilarious. Are you done now? I kind of need to take these designs over to the manufacturers," she retorted, patting her briefcase. The two nodded, with big stupid grins, and allowed her to arise, just as the front door opened and Howl stepped into the threshold.

"Ah, my favourite girls. Staying for tea, Emilia?" he questioned pleasantly, walking into the lounge room. He put his laptop bag on the couch and stepped over to his wife, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek, another to the bump on her stomach, and one more on Eli's forehead.

"Ah, with all this exchange of swine flu going on? No thanks," she laughed playfully.

"Suit yourself, we'll stuff our faces with whatever weird concoction the mummy-to-be is craving today and laugh about you when you're not here," he threatened teasingly.

"Oh no, I'm missing out on chocolate and pickle pizza night," she exclaimed sarcastically. "Sorry, I've really got to run, I need to drop some designs off before the place closes," she apologised.

"Ah well, another time then. We'll save some extra chocolate and pickle pizza for you," he replied with a grin.

"Sounds gross. See you later then," she said finally, laughing as she slipped out of the happy household.

~ * ~

It was another three weeks before the boat of Rosings Park was rocked with the presence of one Brandyne Hawkins, probably the vilest woman the area had seen since Catherine du Bourg left for a warmer climate and Clare Bingley moved to America in search of a rich husband. And what was worse (for Haley, that is), she came to Rosings Park on the arm of Elton Phillips.

She was about half a foot taller than him, half a decade older, ten times louder and twenty times richer. She was oozing with collagen, silicone and arrogance, and immediately earned herself the dislike of everyone in the area the moment she opened her heavily painted mouth.

"It is _lovely_ to meet you, Amelia, dear. I've heard _so_ much about you from my little sweetie-pie," she crooned with artificial sweetness and a very grating attempt at and English accent that poorly disguised her Texan twang in Tay and James' living room. Emilia couldn't help but wince.

"It's _Emilia_, actually," she muttered with only slight bitterness. She glanced across the couch to George, who was hiding a snigger.

"What? Oh, so sorry. But I'm _sure_ we'll be such wonderful friends, I just _love_ your clothes. I always say to my friends, '_George_ is my absolute _favourite_ label'. Saving the environment is _so chic_ now," she drawled, tossing her bottle-blonde hair over her shoulder.

"Good to hear."

"Such an _adorable _bag. Is it original Dolka and Ganana?" she questioned stupidly, locking her eyes on the gorgeous oversized handbag by Emilia's feet.

"Umm, _yes_, it is _Dolche_ and _Gabbana_," she answered, measuring out the syllables perfectly. Brandyne probably would have blushed, had she not been wearing so much makeup that it was impossible to tell. "George bought it for me on my last birthday," she explained, indicating the quiet individual that Brandyne hadn't even noticed. Her eyes widened eagerly as she took in his handsome and well-dressed exterior.

"_George_? What a lovely name. Is that a coincidence, or was the label named after _you_?" she questioned eagerly. He almost winced at the sudden attention.

"No, it was intentional," he answered simply.

"And what do you do?"

"I run a production company. Basically people approach me with ideas and my company invests and produces them."

"And is that good business?"

"Financially yes, but it has the tendency to get dull," he shrugged simply.

"And is there a _Mrs_ George?" she enquired obviously. He blinked in surprise, and practically stammered before he could respond.

"Oh, I meant to ask, George, did I leave my nightgown at your place again? The little red one?" Emilia questioned him before he could doom himself with the truth. His eyed widened further in surprise. "Honey? You remember the one, with the lace on the neckline? It's just – it was my favourite nightgown," she explained with an expression of assumed innocence.

"Uhh, I'm not sure. Why don't you have a look tonight?" he suggested slowly, in an attempt to cover up his surprise.

"Oh, alright then," she sighed dramatically, turning back to Brandyne, who was pouting miserably, but looked resolved to be friends with her regardless.

"Well, Emma, I _do_ hope we see more of each other," she stated loudly.

"It's _Emilia_."

"Of course it is. I really had best be off, my sweetheart and I are going on a romantic little outing," she declared dramatically, rising to her feet. She bid the small party a boisterous goodbye and swept out of the room. Emilia released a long, slow breath of relief.

"Good _Lord_, I hope she goes back to America," she practically groaned with misery.

"I don't want to be cruel, but I think I agree with you there, Emilia," Taylor commented, after having sat silently knitting a pair of booties for Toni's baby. "She's quite rich, you know. Her father owns half the MacDonalds in Texas. Elton might have settled for second-best, but she's a wealthy second choice," she added, glancing meaningfully towards Emilia. George sat up immediately in surprise.

"_What_? Did he –" he began in shock, turning to Emilia, who was trying not to will Taylor to explode suddenly. "Did he _actually_ make a pass at you?" he questioned incredulously. Emilia rolled her eyes.

"I know it might be difficult to believe, but occasionally some men don't find me repulsive," she said dryly. George only scowled.

"I knew he was stupid, I just didn't know _how_ stupid he was," he muttered in disbelief.

"Wow, George, I love you too."

"And this is why he went to America? Because you rejected him?" he questioned sharply. She nodded.

"It doesn't matter. I should have known Haley was too good for him," she said firmly.

"You should have let Haley fall for whoever she wanted, it's not your place to intervene," he said with slight anger, before stopping himself with a sigh. He clearly didn't want to get into an argument. "Whatever. Looks like we'll just have to deal with this woman too," he muttered.

"We'll survive," she assured him. He gave her a dark glance, and she sighed, standing up. She dramatically plopped down on his lap, hanging her legs over the arm of the chair. "We can handle some Southern Belle. We're superheros," she said firmly. He managed to give a tiny grin.

"She won't last in this town very long, I suppose that's something to look forward to," he declared finally. Emilia beamed.

"_That_'s the spirit! Soon she'll be crawling home with her fake tan and poor pronunciation," she laughed.

"We're so mean."

"Meh, we're superheros, we're allowed," she shrugged, pulling herself off his lap. "I should go, I have to show Eli my ideas for her wedding dress and speak to Haley, she'll want to hear about this from me first," she sighed, rising to her feet. "I'll see you guys later. George, don't tire Tay out, she's a married woman now," she laughed, before ducking out of the room. George watched her go with his usual intense gaze.

"I think things are going well for her," Taylor declared suddenly. George turned around and raised a brow.

"Sorry?"

"With Frank. I think things are going well. They see each other at least every other day, and she seems happy," she clarified with a smile. George looked far from happy with her comment.

"You shouldn't encourage the two. I don't trust Frank, and Emilia is simply too young. She's too immature for a relationship," he snapped. Taylor laughed.

"You _know_ that's a lie," she challenged He muttered something miserable beneath his breath.

"Whatever. You're crazy. I'll see you later," he sighed finally. Taylor grinned quietly to herself as he left.

A little jealously could go a long way.

**A/N: Merry Christmas! Or rather, Merry Day-After-Boxing-Day! I finally managed to move into my new bedroom on Christmas Eve, I'm so excited! Although it meant I missed the Christmas party we usually host because I was busy moving things, but that didn't matter! I got a whole bunch of stuff, but I'm really excited about my new ipod touch! ^__^ It's my new best friend. Anyway, things are a bit hectic at the moment in my house, fixing up rooms, the cousins are staying and my grandfather just got out of a double bypass heart surgery (what ever that means :S), but hopefully I'll have some time to continue writing. So I'll keep you posted! Much love, and I hope you enjoyed your Christmas, or if you don't celebrate Christmas, you had a good day anyway ^__^**


	20. Of Memories and Moments

"_She's not really my type, but I think you two are forever, _

_I hate to say it, but you're perfect together,_

_So fuck you, and your untouchable face, I said_

_Fuck you, for existing in the first place_

_And who am I, that I should be vying for your touch?_

_Said who am I? Bet you can't even tell me that much,"_

-Ani Difranco, 'Untouchable Face'

"And how are your classes going?" Professor Llewellyn questioned, glancing up from his sheet to the pale-haired blue-eyed young girl sitting on the couch in his office. She was twirling a lock of blonde hair in her slender fingers. He wondered how she kept so thin, and so pale. Had she been locked in a dark room all her life? How did she not have a single freckle on that perfect ivory skin?

"Oh, quite well. I prefer Standard English, I know the English as a Second Language class was easier, but I like the challenge," she answered, her voice a little higher. It always rose in frequency when she spoke to him.

He hoped it was for him that her voice rose in pitch, but he knew he wasn't right to hope such things.

_She's a child, Howl! A young girl, only seventeen years old, she's completely untouchable_! _It doesn't matter how funny, clever and beautiful she is, she's OFF LIMITS._

"That's good. You dropped maths, I see?" he questioned. She gave an awkward laugh.

"Yeah, I really don't like it. And this way I could pick up another art class," she reasoned. He chuckled.

"Alright, I'll accept that. So your classes are good, how about your friends? No problems there?" he questioned. She shrugged.

"Nothing, really. Things are... the same..." she trailed off. He raised a brow slightly.

"Antoinette? Anything bothering you?" he questioned. She shrugged. "Antoinette, you know you can tell me. I'm not just your teacher, I'm your friend, remember?" he reminded her, alluding to the decision they made when starting the weekly personal mentor meetings at the beginning of that term. They weren't student and teacher when they entered his office, they were _friends_.

He found himself enjoying that title a little too much to be appropriate for a man of his position, but he tried not to let on to her.

"It's just – I don't really know if it's anything you can help me with, sir," she explained quietly. He gave her a reassuring smile.

"Antoinette, if I ask if things are okay with your friends, will you answer me?" he questioned. She chewed her bottom lip – a practise that had a tendency to drive him absolutely mad.

"Will you answer _my_ question?" she challenged. He hesitated.

"O – Of course I will. But you first," he replied, hoping that by the time they worked through her problem, she'd have forgotten to ask him anything. "So, Antoinette, are things okay with your friends?" he asked finally. She took a deep breath.

"It's just – I don't think it's working out with Valerie. And I don't know what to do," she explained slowly. He raised a brow in surprise.

"Valerie? What's wrong?"

"It's just... I like someone else, I think," she murmured. His heart fell.

"Oh. Well, you can tell me about her if you want," he said, albeit reluctantly.

"It's not – it's not a _her_. It's a him. And there's never been a _him_ before, just this one," she said meaningfully.

"Oh..." he murmured in surprise, his heart rising in hope. His mind travelled back to what he had heard Leah mutter a few lessons ago.

"Yeah, things are weird between her and Valerie, but I don't think she's looking for anyone new, Jackie," she hissed across the table to a brown-haired, freckle-faced young girl. He knew instantly that they were talking about Antoinette, who was on an art excursion.

"Are you sure? Maybe she's –"

"Well the thing is that she likes someone else, Jackie. A _guy_. And what's more, he's an _older_ guy," she explained quietly. Jackie's eyes widened in surprise.

"_Really_?"

"Yup. It's really obvious. She's had the hots for him for ages. But he's untouchable, so she's really confused about it," she added.

"He doesn't know how lucky he is," Jackie muttered bitterly.

"He doesn't _know_, full stop," Leah finished meaningfully.

Howl didn't stop the girls in the hope that they might bring up the topic once again, but they were silent (for once) for the rest of the lesson, leaving him to hope and speculate.

He knew he shouldn't feel what he was feeling for Antoinette Noëlle. He knew it could never work.

But mankind didn't stop wanting what they couldn't have just because they knew they couldn't have it.

"So, uh, this '_him_', is he a schoolmate of yours?" he questioned curiously.

"Uhh... yes and no," she answered slowly.

"So does that mean he goes to school, but –"

"But he's not exactly in my year," she explained slowly, lowering her eyes. "He's really wonderful. But I don't think he likes me, and even if he _did_, nothing could –"

"What makes you think he doesn't like you?" he questioned in surprise. She shrugged.

"Well, I'm younger than him, and I don't think I'm pretty enough for him," she muttered ashamedly.

"Antoinette, how could you say that? You're a beautiful young girl, this '_him_' that you like would have to be blind to not think you pretty enough for him," he objected, trying not to sound too needy, but he was well aware that he probably did.

"R – really?" she stammered out, timidly meeting his eyes. He gave her a small, comforting smile.

"Yes, really. And age isn't an issue, not when two people care about each other," he continued.

"Well, that's not it. He – it'd be illegal. It would be _really_ bad if anything... happened," she explained slowly.

"Antoinette, if the 'him' you're talking about is willing to enter a relationship, then those sorts of issues should be discussed. If they're disregarded, then of course things would be really bad, but that's true in any relationship," he explained, stepping from behind his desk to take a seat beside her. She looked like she needed a bit of a comforting pat on the back, he told himself. It wasn't because he wanted to be near to her, was his self-assurance. "And if you don't think you want to be with Valerie, you shouldn't be with Valerie. You should be with the person you want to be with. That's what's important," he continued.

"But what if he doesn't want to be with _me_?" she questioned incredulously. He found himself replying before he could stop himself.

"He'd have to be crazy not to want to be with you, Antoinette. Never think that you aren't good enough," he responded firmly. She slowly nodded.

"Now can I ask you a question?" she said softly. He sighed.

"Alright, I guess that's fair," he acquiesced, knowing he would soon regret it. He found himself unconsciously moving closer to her.

"Do think that... that I should tell him?" she questioned quietly, raising her eyes to meet his. He swallowed rather obviously as he took in the impossibly pale blue shade of her eyes behind dark lashes.

"That... depends on what you want to say," he replied with a voice slightly higher than his usual one. He could smell the faintest whiff of her peach-scented shampoo and strawberry lip gloss. His eyes flickered downward slightly to her lips. They were full, red, and looked like home.

"What if I wanted to say that I haven't been able to stop thinking about him for months? That he's the most beautiful man I've ever seen, even with so much sadness in his eyes?" she questioned. "His _beautiful_ eyes," she murmured. He took another obvious gulp of air.

"Uhhh... that could – that could work," he stammered.

"Or do you think it would be better if I just grabbed his collar and... kissed him?" she asked, her voice so quiet he couldn't have heard her say a word had he not been so close that their knees and thighs were touching.

"Sometimes I think the – the direct approach is what's... what's best," he managed to croak out; desperately wishing his affections weren't so obvious.

"Then maybe I should do that," she decided quietly. He nodded.

"Maybe you should," he agreed.

"And you won't judge me badly if I do that? Think I'm too... brash?" she questioned, pronouncing 'brash' incorrectly but sounding so adorable when she did it.

"I wouldn't think that at all," he assured her. She nodded, and smiled.

"Well then, maybe I should –"

Her statement was cut short by their sudden collision of lips. All conscious thought immediately departed his mind and was replaced with the taste and the feel of her lips against his. His hand rose of its own accord and buried itself in her long blonde curls, the other wrapping around her waist. She wound her arms around his neck and began toying with the hair on his nape. He probed her mouth open with his gently nipping lips, and deepened the kiss. He heard a vague whimper of approval that should have jarred him to his senses and stopped his actions, but it drove him onwards. He had been dreaming of kissing her for so long, and finally, _finally_, he could indulge in his most secret of dreams.

Within the next thirty seconds they somehow found themselves lying horizontal on the couch, lips, tongues and hands gently testing the barriers, thought and reason abandoned. They weren't aware of how much time passed, time could not be measured in seconds and minutes when one's mind (and body) was so agreeably occupied. He couldn't remember enjoying _anything_ as much as he enjoyed kissing the skin beneath her earlobe or running his hand down, past her waist, to rest on a location entirely improper for a teacher to be touching. None of his 'good' moods had ever brought him to such heights of joy and happiness, no memory, however strong, was as good as what he was feeling.

It was the bell that finally brought them back to their senses. Howl jumped up suddenly, and ran a hand through his already messy brown hair. He swallowed.

"Oh God. Oh God. Oh God, we should _not_ have done that," he finally managed to gasp out as his partner in crime straightened her uniform.

"I – I didn't know kissing a boy could be so –" Toni began, before stopping herself. "You're right. We shouldn't have done it," murmured very quietly, staring at her shoes in guilt.

"Antoinette, it's not that I – I mean, it's not that I didn't _want_ to do... what we just did, but – but we _shouldn't have_. It's wrong. I'm your teacher, you're a student, we can't – we just crossed a _very_ dangerous line," he explained hurriedly. "If anyone were to find out what –"

"No one _is_ going to find out. It's not like I'm going to tell anyone," she assured him, her eyes wide and honest. He wanted to look away, to spare himself the torment of seeing her eyes fill slowly with tears, but somehow he was unable to. "And – And I know it might not seem like much, but I really don't care –"

"And _I_ don't care either, Antoinette, that's the problem," he cried suddenly. "I don't care that I'm your teacher, I just want to kiss you and touch you and – and I should _not_ want that, it's not right!" he hissed, upon hearing the sounds of students passing through the halls.

"If you don't care, and I don't care, then why not?" she questioned desperately. He took a deep, slow breath.

"Because. It's wrong. We shouldn't. I'm your teacher. You're seventeen, I'm eleven years older than you," he stated as calmly as he could. She slid closer to him on the couch, and he visibly shivered when their thighs brushed against each other, but he didn't tell her to move away. She slid her arm around his waist, before slipping it under his jumper and untucked work shirt. He gave a sharp intake of breath as her hand snaked its way over his skin. "That's – you shouldn't do that," he muttered, his voice shaky.

"Why not?" she questioned innocently, leaning forwards to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

Before she had time to repeat her question, he turned around quickly and met her lips with his, ending the discussion.

~ * ~

"_There is no such place, oh yes I have seen it too,  
Just a little different from how you do,  
A __house_

_upon a hill with no __windows__,  
Just a can upon the sill, to catch your tears  
To feed your __garden__,"_ Howl sung softly in his melodious and gentle voice.

"That's so morbid," Toni laughed sleepily as she glanced down at her husband, who was lying with his head on her lap, facing the ever-growing bump that held their child. They lay atop their bed, Toni with her back against the headrest, lazily tracing circles over the bump. Her health had been improving, and she was in better spirits.

"Would you like me to stop?" he asked with a small laugh. She shook her head.

"No. I love your voice, and Baby loves your – _oh!_" she cried in surprise. Howl jumped up in shock.

"D – Did what I think happen just happen?" he exclaimed, but before she could reply, he had resumed his place with his hand pressed against her stomach. He did a poor job of hiding his disappointment when he didn't feel another kick.

"Sing some more. Polliwog likes your voice," she urged him quickly.

"Uhh... um _- There is no such place, oh yes I have seen it too,  
Just a little different from how you do,  
A river winding blue among the dunes and a marble bed,  
A sun that doesn't set but settles,_" he sung, before releasing an excited laugh as he felt a sort of... fluttering against his palm. And then another, and another, so obvious and sharp that he worried it might be hurting Antoinette.

"Keep singing, he likes it," she urged him.

"Is it hurting you?" he questioned anxiously.

"Uhh... I wouldn't say so. It's weird," she managed to briefly explain, before laughing. "It's so _strange_!" she cried.

"He's going to be a football player. Damn. Now I'll have to learn how to play football just so I can teach him," he muttered miserably. Toni gave another laugh.

"No, he'll play the drums. He's using my kidneys as practise," she assured him. He chuckled.

"Did you realise that we're at the halfway mark?" he questioned with a small smile. She paused for a moment, counting commemorative numbers in her head.

"Wow. Halfway," she sighed quietly, gently rubbing her expanding stomach. "In four and a half months we're going to have a baby," she murmured. Howl smiled, and pressed a kiss to the bump.

"And it couldn't come sooner?" he asked hopefully. She rolled her eyes.

"Unless you're willing to give birth to it yourself, no," she answered shortly. He laughed.

"Not something I was looking forward to, but I'll keep that in mind," he chuckled. Toni lay back on the bed with a dreamy sigh.

"Four and a half months and he'll be here," she stated, as if still attempting to convince herself. "We should start setting up the nursery, you know," she reminded him.

"I know. I'll clear all the junk out of the spare room tomorrow," he assured her.

"Well, we could always use Eli's room. I mean, she won't be using it by the time that Polliwog comes along," she offered. She immediately felt Howl tense.

"No. No, I'll clear out the spare room. It's closer to our bedroom, we'll be able to hear him if he cries," he rationalised.

"Hmm. I suppose you're right. But what will we do with Eli's room?" she questioned curiously.

"We'll... keep it like it is. Things don't have to change," he said quietly.

"Howl?"

"Yes?"

"You know Eli is going to move out of here, don't you?" she asked gently. He lowered his eyes and rested his head against her shoulder.

"It's too soon," he murmured finally.

"What do you mean?" she laughed.

"It's – it's too soon. Most parents get at least a good twenty years to spend with their child, and we only got three. It's too soon," he admitted. "I don't want to let her go yet. I still think she's just a little girl, she's _our_ little girl. Just because biologically she's not ours doesn't mean that we don't deserve the chance to keep her a little longer," he explained honestly.

"Ohh, sweetie, I didn't know you felt like that," Toni sighed, sliding downwards, wrapping her arms around his frame. "I don't want her to go either, but... we knew this was coming. And we'll still see her all the time, she won't forget us," she assured him.

"But – But it's not the same, is it? It's not the same as having her here all the time. I'm just not ready to lose her yet. I want to hang on for as long as possible," he explained. Toni laughed.

"Yeah, like when she's eighty and still hasn't moved out," she sniggered. He rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean. We get the chance to be there from the beginning with Polliwog, but... I want as much of that with Eli as I can get," he replied, to which she nodded.

"I know, babe. But we still have some time with her yet, and we don't know what the arrangement will be for them after they get married. They could even end up here with us, we never know," she reminded him. He sighed.

"You're right. You're always right. But I wish we _did_ know," he murmured finally, before Polliwog's next round of kicks snapped him out of his melancholy.

~ * ~

"So which ones do you like?" Emilia quizzed her 'clients', holding forth several sketches of different wedding gowns, some incredibly glamorous and over-the-top, others so simple they could be classified as nightgowns.

"Umm... it should be white," Darcy decided, glancing helplessly through the dozens of sketches littering the table.

"They're _all_ white."

"Don't rush me!" he threw back with a frown, which then turned into a sigh.

"I kind of like this one," Eli said randomly, pulling forth a much more casual white slip-dress with a large green sash.

"I don't," Darcy muttered.

"Huh?"

"Well didn't you already decide that there's not going to be any green?" he questioned hesitatingly.

"Oh yeah. Why did I decide that?" Eli questioned with a slight frown.

"Because you hate green," he reminded her. She laughed.

"Oh yeah. Alright, show me the colours we picked, Em," she requested, turning back to her favourite little designer, who instantly pulled out a stack of Dulux paint samples. She thrust a few little cards in front of the pair. "So I guess we have to stick to the cream, the pale gold, the rose gold and the peach then," she muttered thoughtfully, holding the charts up against Darcy. "Do these make him look gay?" she questioned curiously.

"He'll be marrying a girl, so I doubt it," Emilia replied simply. Darcy scowled and pushed the colour selections out of his face.

"You can't pick the colour scheme for our wedding based on how _gay_ it makes me look," he objected.

"Fine, but I'm so calling you Carson for the entire night," she shrugged simply, concealing a grin. Darcy rolled his eyes.

"You're impossible. Pick a dress," he instructed.

"Hey, don't rush me."

"Well this one is hideous, sorry Em, and this one would be too difficult to put on –"

"I doubt it's the putting _on_ of the clothing that concerns you, I suspect it's much more the taking _off_ of clothing," Eli sniggered. He rolled his eyes once more.

"We'll let Emilia decide then," he said finally.

"_Yes_, ooh, win for me!" Emilia cried excitedly before Eli could object. She instantly pulled forth what was obviously her favourite design, because it had been in her hand the whole time.

"Do you like it?" Eli asked her husband-to-be curiously as they inspected the design.

"Actually, I think it's quite nice. How about you?"

"Hell, I'd wear that every second of the day, if it weren't so weird and all to wear a wedding dress each waking hour," she replied eagerly.

"Well then, it's settled. That'll be the dress," William decided finally, before giving a sigh of relief.

"Now for the bridesmaid dresses," Emilia declared.

William's relieved sigh soon turned into a groan of frustration.

"Oh great. This is _never_ going to end," he muttered miserably. Emilia flashed him a cheerful smile.

"Nope! Sorry about that," she laughed, pulling forth another folder full of designs.

The wedding was coming up with impressive speed, only four months till the date, but due to Eli's tight schedule at university and the theatre and William's combination of office hours and time spent overseeing the renovations to Pemberley, they had little time to plan their dream wedding – which meant the majority of it had become Emilia's job.

"Oh! I forgot to ask you guys, what scent did you want the candles to be?" Emilia enquired suddenly.

"Huh?" William questioned stupidly. Emilia rolled her pale eyes.

"You're having an evening wedding. There has to be candles," she reminded him.

"Oh good Lord. This is taking forever," he muttered miserably, running a hand through his dark hair. "Strawberry. You like strawberries, don't you, Elizabeth? And lilies. She likes those too. There, what next?" he decided suddenly, pulling the folder from Emilia's hands. "The bridesmaids can wear this one, it looks alright," he decided, tossing a design for a dress into the pile. "And I like this one," he declared, throwing forth another picture, a colour sketch of the proposed decorations for the courtyard where they would have dinner with the guests.

"Wow. Really bored?" Eli questioned with a laugh.

"I need to get to work in about ten minutes and this is taking _far_ too long," he muttered, continuing his flicking through the sheets of paper.

"Can I interject?" she asked with a small grin.

"Only if it's quick."

"Fairy lights. I want _lots_ of fairy lights, _and_ the candles," she decided. He laughed, and nodded.

"Fine. Em, order as many fairy lights as possible. And the candles have to be in strawberry –"

"Wild strawberries."

"Alright, wild strawberry and lily candles. And did you like this dress?" he questioned, holding forth one of the proposed bridesmaid gowns.

"I prefer this one," she admitted, thrusting another forth.

"Done. Anything else?" he questioned Emilia. She laughed.

"Uhh... food?" she suggested. He rolled his eyes.

"Great. This is going to take forever," he muttered.

"I liked that pink sparkling champagne we had at your place last month, do you think we could have that?" Eli questioned her friend intently.

"Done. The _Libertine_ does really good food, I thought they could cater. They'll be able to match an entree to that, and what I was thinking for the dessert would go well too. Any ideas on the main?" she questioned efficiently, taking her folder back from Darcy.

"He loves roast lamb," Eli informed her, nudging her finance.

"Done. And I was thinking tons of chocolate and fruit for dessert," Emilia informed her.

"Shitloads of chocolate."

"Can I go now?" Darcy requested. Eli rolled her eyes, and gave him a quick kiss.

"I'll be late at the theatre, tonight is the first dress rehearsal. Pick me up at nine?" she requested.

"Alright, I'll see you then. We can go over to Martelli's for dinner," he decided, grabbing his laptop bag and coat, stealing one last kiss from his girlfriend, before bidding a goodbye to Emilia and slipping out of the apartment. Eli laughed and sighed at the same time whilst he left.

"You two are so cute, with this whole domestic thing," Emilia said dreamily. Eli rolled her dark eyes.

"As if. We don't even live together yet, I bet things will get interesting then," she replied with a laugh.

"So have you just talked about living arrangements?" she questioned with light hesitation. Eli's smile faded.

"Yeah. A bit. He wants to move into Pemberley pretty much right away," she explained. "I mean, I'll be running classes in the holidays, but... I don't know. He just expects that I'm going to sit at home during the rest of the year when he gets to go off to work in town. I'll really only be working half the year. What else am I supposed to do?" she sighed miserably.

"So you guys have decided that it's going to be a holiday school?"

"For the first few years, yeah. When we get the hang of it we'll employ full-time teachers and make it a proper school. He just wants to get back into music and teach," she explained with a shrug.

"And he'll still be working in town for the business?" Emilia asked with slight hesitation.

"Yeah. He'll be running the Lambton office, where his Dad used to work. It means a lot to him," she explained distantly, fiddling with the hem of her jumper as she lay back on the couch. "He's sort of planned our entire life out, and... he's not taken into account the possibility that I might want to stay in Rosings Park. With the theatre, and with my family," she added quietly.

"Oh. And... have you spoken to him about it?" Emilia asked carefully. She wasn't particularly sure what to say. She hadn't really thought about how much things would change when Eli and Darcy got married. Would she even be able to see them? Would they simply meet up at Christmas or send cards on birthdays? She didn't want to lose one of her best friends. Eli shrugged.

"Not really. We've been working to get Pemberley up and running for years now, I guess the possibility of us waiting even longer to move in hasn't occurred to him," she answered simply, running a hand through her dark hair with a troubled sigh. "I love him. But I love my family and my friends and my job, too. It's _important_ to me that I stay here, especially with Polliwog coming so soon. And what if I get the lead at the theatre? I kind of doubt it, but what if I _do_?" she questioned desperately.

"If you audition, you _will_ get it. You're too talented not to," Emilia insisted. Eli sighed miserably.

"I want it. I want it so badly. And _Evita_ opens in just two weeks, two months later the show will be over and auditions will start for the new lead. I don't think he's expecting me to go for those auditions," she muttered.

"It'll be a full two months before you two tie the knot. Can't you guys take that into account before it's too late?" she questioned gently. Eli shrugged once more.

"I don't want to seem... selfish to him. I think he really misses music, it's such an important part of him. And if I ask him to wait here, it'll be like asking him to put that part of him on hold. I can't do it," she muttered. "I think it's for the best if I just don't audition. I mean, I'll still get to sing and perform at Pemberley. It's not like I'll never sing another note," she unconvincingly tried to rationalise.

"Just audition. If you don't get it, you're stressing over nothing, but if you _do_, then you and Will can just talk about it, and make a decision," she advised. Eli didn't reply for a moment, before she finally nodded.

"I guess you're right," she sighed, sitting up. "Alright then, let's tie this up before I have to go to the theatre," she declared finally, pulling another folder before her.

Emilia evaluated her friend with keen eyes.

She really had no idea what Eli would do if she ended up getting the lead in the theatre. She suspected, however, that William was going to have quite a say in it before a decision was reached.

"Hey. You awake?" Eli questioned with a laugh. Emilia snapped instantly out of her trance.

"Oh, sorry. I was thinking about the fairy lights," she replied with a weak smile. Eli rolled her eyes and smiled, knowing full well that Emilia was full of it.

"It'll be okay. I'll decide. _We'_ll decide," she assured her finally. Emilia returned her smile, before they resumed their work.

**A/N: Sorry about that, no George and Emi in this one, but they will be some good stuff next chappie :D Song Howl sings to Polliwog (which means a tadpole, by the way) is 'No Such Place' by Augie March, a really great Australian band. They're like the next Bob Dylan, peoples.**


	21. Of Plays and Parties

"_You and I, we make a grand salute  
Stare at each other, like lost little birds across the room  
And I remember the way you looked,  
I learned how to dance, but I'd never shown it to you,  
My love,"_

-Basia Bulat, 'Little Waltz'

"Which one do you think will go better with the theatre?" Emilia questioned curiously, stepping out of her wardrobe, holding up two different gowns for her audience's inspection. George rolled his eyes as he glanced up from his iphone.

"Ooh, Miss Woodhouse, I think the blue one," Haley gushed excitedly.

"George?"

"Neither. Go naked. Give them a show," he suggested dryly, before sniggering. "I can download an application that looks like a packet of tic tacs," he laughed, upon turning back to his iphone. Emilia rolled her eyes at his lack of interest.

"Haley, which one do you want to wear?"

"The blue one."

"Alright, then I'll wear this," she replied, tossing her blonde friend the gown. Haley instantly squealed with excitement and ducked into the wardrobe, shutting the door before her. Emilia laughed at her excitement, and stepped behind her silk screens to pull her own gown on.

"If I shake it, the tic tacs move," George informed her quite factually, shaking his phone eagerly.

"You're so childish," Emilia laughed from behind the screen as she slipped off her bathrobe.

"You need to download the PMS tracker and sync it to my phone so I know when to avoid you," he replied, flicking through the app store eagerly. "Need a hand?" he questioned, upon hearing no scathing reply.

"I don't know about this dress," she replied. "I don't think I need tape, but it's a bit daring," she muttered. "Can you zip me up?" she questioned, stepping out from behind the screens, holding her dress together at the back with her hands.

George swallowed, hoping his sudden discomfort wasn't particularly obvious. It seemed that with each party they attended, her dresses became sexier and sexier, and he just couldn't handle it.

Her gown was a mass of tulle, silk and lace in various shades of black, burgundy and grey. It was tight around the burgundy bodice, resembling a tie-less corset with black floral lace, no straps, and it payed extreme compliment to her chest. From the waist down it flowed in many short layers of grey, black and burgundy, like a floor-length tutu. Her hair fell freely around her shoulders, and he could now understand her darker (and far more seductive) makeup. It was intense, and pretty damn sexy.

"Who're you trying to impress there?" he questioned with a raised brow, climbing off the bed to assist her with the clips at the back.

"What makes you think I'm trying to impress anyone?" she retorted innocently. "This could be entirely for your benefit," she suggested.

"Lies. Are you just doing this to show off to the Phillips? To intimidate Brandyne?" he suggested with a slight frown.

"No one. I'm wearing this dress because I think it's nice, and I have to make an effort to look alright next to you," she teased.

"It's Frank, isn't it," he stated morosely, letting her free. She sighed with exasperation.

"No. It's not," she assured him. He looked suspicious, but did not comment.

"Alright."

"Anyway, I don't even know if he'll turn up, apparently his Auntie is missing him. He'll probably be ushered back to the States soon," she said with a simple shrug. "So no Frank, which is good for you, because I know he annoys you. Just you, me, and the rest of the people in this town tonight," she assured him with a comforting smile.

"Well... it better be. You've been rejecting me recently," he threw back, as if mortally wounded. Emilia laughed.

"Rejecting you? We're practically living together again!" she laughed. "Most nights I'm crashing at your place because I can't even be bothered to walk down the hall to mine, we might as well just make it official and move my shit into your place," she teased.

"Well why don't you?" he questioned suddenly, pausing her amusement. She stopped on her way to the dresser.

"What?"

"Why don't you move in with me? You spend most of the time at my place anyway, so why not? You can sell this place and buy yourself another pair of Jimmy Choos," he suggested. Emilia paused before responding.

Her immediate thought was that they simply couldn't, but when she asked herself _why_, she had no idea. Why shouldn't they? After all, she used to live with him for months at a time when she was a teenager, why would it be weird all of a sudden?

It would be weird _not_ to, she reminded herself.

"Or you could sublet this place out. Let someone else live here," he suggested. "Like Haley. She needs to find a new place anyway," he added.

"Uhh... I – do you think we should?" she questioned, breaking her reverie.

"Well if I didn't I wouldn't have suggested it," he reminded her with a small smile. He stepped forwards, and reached for her hand, playfully entwining their fingers and lightly swimming her limb.

"Well... uh, alright then. I'll move my stuff in tomorrow," she decided after a few moment's hesitation. She wanted to smile, but for some reason she felt incredibly nervous about the prospect. It made _sense_, they were best friends, they spent huge amounts of time together, so why shouldn't she?

_Because you don't move in with people when you don't know if you have feelings for them_, a little voice whispered in the back of her head. She wanted to scream 'shut up' at that voice, but she resisted the urge. She listened.

But in the end, George's smile won over any objections she could think of.

"Good. Then it's settled. Haley can move in here, and you'll live with me," he decided firmly.

"Good. Yeah. Excellent. I'll just – go tell Haley," Emilia decided, her voice a little weaker than it should have been. She let go of George's hand, and slipped into the wardrobe, where Haley was struggling with the zipper on her dark blue spaghetti-strapped gown.

"Oh, good, Miss Woodhouse, I need your help," Haley exclaimed when she entered.

"Not a problem, Haley," Emilia assured her in an energetic and cheerful tone, zipping the dress up with ease. "I was thinking, Haley, about renting this place out and moving in with George. What do you think?" she enquired.

"Oh, Miss Woodhouse, that sounds like a good idea. You practically live with George, anyway," Haley replied with a broad grin. "Who will you rent your apartment to?" she enquired curiously.

"Well you, if you'd like," Emilia shrugged. "You can pay me whatever you're paying at the place you are now and just move in here. It's no trouble," she said with a kind smile. Haley's eyes went wide.

"_Really_, Miss Woodhouse? Truly? You would do that?" she practically wept. Emilia laughed, and nodded.

"Of course. You can move in as soon as your lease expires. I'd love to have you," she said eagerly. Haley let out an excited squeal and instantly wrapped her arms around her employer.

"Oh _thank you_, Miss Woodhouse! You've done so much for me!" she cried. Emilia smiled.

"You're welcome, Haley. It can mark a new start in your life, moving on, and all that," she stated firmly. Haley gave another squeal.

Hopefully, Emilia thought to herself, the prospect of new living quarters would distract her enough to forget about the Phillips, who were almost certainly going to make that night a living hell.

"Well, what does she think? I really can't read her," George commented dryly when the two ladies stepped out of the wardrobe, and Haley instantly starting bouncing around the room, and... staring at the ceiling... all the while squealing happily for her good fortune.

"Har-har. I think she'll be quite happy," Emilia replied, regarding her friend fondly before she grabbed her purse. "Haley? You are ready?" she questioned. The mad blonde stopped buzzing around the room long enough to reply.

"Oh, yes, Miss Woodhouse. Of course. Shall we go?" she questioned almost dreamily.

"We should probably leave now, the performance starts at seven and we still have to find our seats," she muttered thoughtfully, glancing at the diamond watch on her slender wrist.

"We'll go in the new Merc then. Have you got everything?" George questioned with genuine concern. He had been very... attentive of late, Emilia had noted.

"Oh, I think so," she replied, trying not to blush, and not even understanding why she felt the _need_ to blush.

"Here. You don't want to be cold," he threw in, picking up her black lace shawl, and wrapping it around her shoulders.

"Oh. Thanks," she replied, well aware that she really _was_ blushing by that point. George smiled warmly.

"You're welcome. We should probably go down," he suggested.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess so," she muttered stupidly. "Hales? Are you ready?" she questioned, for the second time.

"Yes Miss Woodhouse, I have everything," she assured her promptly, purse and shawl in hand.

"Well then, I guess we... go now," Emilia declared nervously, leading the way out of the room, very anxious of the fact that George was right behind her.

Why should she be anxious of that all of a sudden? She didn't understand. They were her own _feelings_ and she couldn't comprehend them.

Her mind was in a state of turmoil the entire trip over as Haley babbled to George about this and that from the backseat of his brand new Merc.

"You okay? You seem a little quiet. It's not like you," he questioned teasingly, but his concern was evident in his tones as he placed a gentle hand lightly on her knee to awake her from her reverie at a set of stoplights. She looked up in surprise, trying to formulate a response that didn't detail the wonderful sensation of his warm hand on her knee.

"Oh, I'm fine. Perfectly fine," she assured him hastily, a little _too_ hastily in fact. He laughed.

"Alright then. I was just curious," he laughed, removing his hand (she couldn't help but miss it the moment it departed from her personal bubble) to resume its place on the wheel as the lights turned green.

Emilia turned her gaze out the window. It was raining lightly, and the reflection of car headlights and streetlamps and shop windows cast a beautiful, colourful glow on the road. She found herself smiling softly. She'd always loved driving, ever since she was a little girl, when she could sit in the car and stare out the window as the world sped past. In fact, George had taught her how to drive. She was terrible at first, but he really did try to keep her alive when she sat behind a wheel.

"Alright. We're here," George announced, pulling into the theatre's carpark. Emilia almost jumped in surprise.

"Really?" she found herself exclaiming. It felt like only minutes ago when they had climbed into the car.

"No. This carpark is made out of cardboard. I just stopped here because it's all a part of the plan," he commented dryly. She rolled her eyes.

"Which plan? The one to be the next Kurt Cubain, or the one to take over the world?" she questioned teasingly.

"A little from column A, a little from column B," he replied with a playful shrug. She laughed, genuinely laughed, and couldn't help but notice that his eyes sparkling beautifully when he smiled. "We should probably get out of the car now," he reminded her.

"Oh yeah. So is the theatre cardboard too?" she questioned curiously.

"Of course. Every last little detail. I plan very well," he assured her with exaggerated seriousness, pulling open his car door. Emilia didn't give him the opportunity to pull hers open, and slid out the car, Haley following her.

"Wow. Light bulbs made out of cardboard. Jeez, when you commit to something, you sure do commit hard," she commented, pretending to examine the bright light hanging over his car in a sea of gorgeous and expensive vehicles.

"My motto in life."

The theatre looked fantastic for the opening night of _Evita_. It was a terribly exclusive affair, and tickets were five times the price of a normal night, but there would be a big party after the show with food, dancing and alcohol to make up for the extra expense.

"Antoinette! Oh, you look so pretty!" Emilia exclaimed when they spotted some of their party. Antoinette wore a very elegant cream gown that boasted her rapidly expanding stomach, her white-blonde hair pulled back into a sophisticated chignon with a few pearl-tipped pins. She looked stunning, and much healthier. It was her first outing in weeks, and she had been determined to attend. Howl looked very dashing beside her, but the concern for his wife was evident.

"Dammit. Five months ago, _I_ was wearing dresses that made me look as hot as you," she sighed wistfully.

"I think that's what got you pregnant, darling," Howl commented teasingly.

"No, what got her pregnant is _you_ forgetting to wear a raincoat, my friend. You can't blame this on fashion," George interjected with playfully twinkling eyes.

"Hmm. I thought it was the bottle of tequila we drank before doing it on your couch, George. Forgot to mention that. I hope you cleaned it before you sat down again," Howl threw back without hesitation.

"Good Lord. We'll be here all night," Toni sighed dramatically.

"How are you feeling?" Emilia asked with concern.

"Way better. Morning sickness is pretty much over now, but the nausea doesn't seem to piss off when I tell it to. Baby is getting pretty kicky, though," she answered, placing her hand on the bump of her stomach. "He does this really _cute_, but very _annoying_ thing. He waits till I'm in a really comfortable position and just about to fall asleep before he starts kicking the shit out of my bladder. I tell you what, boys are mean little buggers," she muttered with a frown.

"So you guys aren't even taking in the possibility of it being a girl, huh?" George questioned.

"We've picked a few girl names, but we're fairly certain we won't need them," Howl replied.

"What kind of names have you gotten so far?" Emilia asked eagerly.

"Well we want something traditional – but the problem is, we can't decide if we want something traditional _Welsh_ or traditional _French_. Either way the kid is going to have a bit of a mouthful of a name," he explained.

"Call it George," George suggested randomly.

"No."

"Come on. I'm your best friend."

"I'm married. I'm not allowed to have friends anymore."

"I like George," Antoinette decided suddenly.

"Of course you do, darling. We'll tell him that it's really my baby one day," George retorted cheekily. Toni rolled her eyes.

"Funny. But I like the name. It's cute," she said thoughtfully.

"_Cute_? It's a manly, strong name!" he objected.

"But isn't your name really Georgois?"

"Why told you that?" he cried in horror. Emilia sniggered. "You little _heathen_!" he hissed angrily.

"Hey, she's my wench, I _had_ to tell her," she defended between giggles.

"Brethren before wenches, it's _always _brethren before wenches!"

"Whatever. They all know now," she laughed, before turning back to Antoinette. "Call it George if it's a girl, that'll be way cuter," Emilia advised.

"Good plan," Toni agreed. "We should probably go find our seats now. You guys are staying for the after party?" she questioned curiously.

"Of course, it's not exactly a school night," Emilia laughed, before glancing at her watch. "Oh, you're right, the curtains will be opening in about ten minutes, we'd better find the box," she muttered thoughtfully.

"I can't believe I'm going to the Opera and I'll be sitting in one of those boxes up top," Haley sighed dreamily, gazing around the room in wonder.

"This isn't exactly what you'd call traditional opera, Haley," Howl informed the young woman as he took his wife's arm. "You'll have to take her to a real opera someday, _The Magic Flute_ is opening in a few weeks," he advised to Emilia.

"Bah. Those phonies couldn't sing it as well as Eli," Toni objected.

"Prejudiced much?" George teased.

"Oh, I wouldn't advise you question the pregnant woman, she _will_ hurt you," Howl muttered slyly.

"Love you too, babe," Toni retorted with a roll of her pale eyes.

"Anytime, love," he replied, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek as all assembled began to move to the stairs or doors leading into the main theatre.

"Emma! _Yoo-hoo_! It's me, Brandyne!" came an obnoxious shriek from across the foyer. Emilia winced, and slowly turned, pasting on a false smile.

"Brandyne, it's so lovely to see you again," she lied politely, positively glaring at Elton, who was being dragged on Brandyne's arm.

Clearly no one had ever told the woman what you wear to the opening night of the theatre. She wore a tiny little clubbing dress that was horribly stretched over her large, fake breasts, and showed off _far_ too much leg to be decent, partnered with some sort of sequined headpiece and impossibly tall stiletto heels. Elton at least had the decency to look ashamed beside her, but that was probably only because he recalled his drunken behaviour towards Emilia, who was attempting to shield Haley from the couple.

"We _have _to catch up, Emma, dear! It's been an age. You're going to the party afterwards?" she questioned excitedly.

"Uhh, yes, of course. How did you get tickets for tonight, and for the party?" she questioned in slightly concern. The opening night was strictly VIP only, and the party was reserved for only family and close friends of the cast.

"Oh, I pulled a few strings, you know. And I fixed it so we could sit together, isn't that _exciting_? We'll get to spend the whole night together!" she cried joyfully. Emilia half-expected to hear an amused snigger from behind her, but she was quite certain George was too busy comforting the suddenly very disheartened Haley. She managed out a poor excuse for a smile, but Brandyne saw no flaws in it, and instantly clutched onto her arm, practically dragging her towards the stairs so they could take their seats before the performance.

'This is bad,' was all George mouthed to her when she caught his eye. She hazarded a glance towards the suddenly very pale Haley, and instantly felt the truth of his unspoken words.

She felt, rather than knew, that the night was going to end poorly.

~ * ~

Emilia's initial assessment only proved to be true. The performance was ruined with Brandyne's constant commentary, Haley's sniffles of misery, Henrietta (who joined later with her niece) and her rambling, and George's gritting of teeth when the elusive Frank Churchill made an appearance after all.

As the curtains closed at the end of the performance, Emilia couldn't help but give a relieved sigh. It was too difficult to concentrate with the chaos going on in the box. And it _had_ been a wonderful show; it was only a shame that Eli didn't make more of an appearance. Her contribution seemed to be limited to the chorus and a few minor roles, with no speaking.

"Did you enjoy it, Haley?" she questioned her friend curiously. Haley snapped out of her musings, and noticed with a blush that everyone was standing up to leave.

"Oh. Yeah. It was great. Eli sounded nice," she muttered distractedly. Emilia didn't have the heart to inform her that Eli's voice was an unnoticeable part of the chorus.

"Did you hear it? That ridiculous excuse for a second soprano? She was sharp the entire performance. Somebody ought to hit her over the head with a tuning fork," Darcy muttered to Howl, rising from his chair.

"She was barely a semi-tone off pitch, Will, you have to be a little nicer, she was probably just nervous," Howl laughed.

"It just annoys me. That _woman_ stands more of a chance of getting the lead than Eli, even though Eli can sing ten times better than she can," he explained with agitation. Howl sighed and rolled his eyes.

"They'll judge on talent, not just experience, William. You have to be reasonable," he reminded him.

"You _know_ Eli can sing better than her, you're her teacher too. She's been improving, she's as good as the actual lead, the second soprano doesn't deserve the job," he pointed out.

"Are you upset from the perspective of a teacher who is looking after his student, or from a young man who is overprotective of his girlfriend?" Howl questioned teasingly, helping Toni from her chair.

"Both."

"Well, as long as it's an equal balance," he chuckled.

"I agree with Will. Eli totally deserves the lead, way more than that crazy blonde woman," she said firmly.

"Thank you, Mrs Llewellyn, it's good to know I have support," Darcy replied.

"God, how many times do you have to keep calling me that?" she questioned with a frustrated groan. Darcy hid an amused grin. "I'm only one year older than you! There's not exactly a huge age gap!" she exclaimed.

"Actually, I just do it because your husband gets a goofy smile whenever I say it, and it's a great deal of fun to tease him about it," Darcy replied simply. Toni rolled her eyes but did not object.

"How cute. We should probably head downstairs, apparently there's a party?" Frank questioned eagerly, clapping his hands together. Together the group was made up of the Westons, the Bates and Jane, Brandyne and Elton, William, Howl, Toni, George, Haley, Frank and Emilia, a large party. They filled up the box with little room to spare. George immediately took Emilia's arm before Frank could beat him to it, and they lead their way out into the crowded hallway. Over the babbling of the crowds, however, Brandyne could be heard, screeching about how 'funny' the costumes and songs were, and how boring she found it.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Emilia questioned her companion, hoping to distract him from his apparent purpose, and thus, his extremely tight grip on her arm. He started in surprise, clearly awoken from his reverie.

"Huh? Oh. Yes. It was nice," he grumbled poetically, eyes narrowed and focused straight ahead.

"I preferred _Aspects of Love_, remember when they did that last season? It was really fantastic. And I know Eli likes those songs better," she commented.

"Hmm."

"You okay?" she questioned with slight hesitation.

"Perfectly fine," he said through gritted teeth, winding their way through finely dressed couples to find the room where the party was being held for friends and family of cast members. Emilia closed her mouth with slight disappointment. He was in one of his moods, and conversation was bound to be one-sided for the next few hours. She wanted to sigh in disappointment, but that would only draw his attention to her, and thus his scorn.

"Do you want a drink, George?" she questioned as they found themselves in the next room, which was filling slowly with cast members and their loved ones. George glanced towards the open bar and nodded.

"Might as well. What'll you have?" he asked, releasing her from his tight grip.

"Just a martini," she replied. He nodded, and disappeared across the room.

"Knightley is _such_ a doll, dear. What a catch," came an annoying drawl from behind. Brandyne stood clutching onto Elton with a smug grin on her face.

"I suppose you two have always been together. Not that open about your relationship, huh?" Elton questioned with slight bitterness.

"The relationship between George and I is a private matter, Elton, and that's why we aren't 'open' about it," she retorted, not disguising the irritation in her tone. She was still angry with Elton, she could admit. It was frustrating that he hadn't been all she had expected, and that he hadn't even been interested in Haley from the start. He was disappointing.

"I suppose that's why the rumours have been flying about you and Frank Churchill! No one knows you're with Knightley, so they feel free to speculate," Brandyne commented, sounding rather pleased with herself to have made a logical conclusion. "But I _do_ like Frank Churchill. He's such a doll. I had expected him to be a bit of a Mummy's boy, but he's not at _all_. If there's one thing I can't stand it's Mummy's boys," she added, her beady little eyes centring in on Frank's figure across the room, where he was trapped by Henrietta Bates and her miserable looking niece.

Well, miserable wasn't exactly the word. Jane looked annoyingly pretty in her dark silver gown that hung perfectly over her body, her auburn hair pulled into a bun that looked a little severe, but did not detract from her attractive features. Her eyes sparkled under the warm chandelier lights; it almost looked as if she was actually eager to talk with Frank. But Emilia dismissed this thought. It was Jane, after all, who wasn't eager to speak with anyone.

Across the room, George swallowed down a scotch before accepting the martini for Emilia and a refill of his own drink. He already felt in a miserable mood, he hadn't intended on Frank turning up, and the man's presence always served to make him depressed.

"You probably shouldn't be drinking. You'll never get home at this rate," Howl commented, stepping up to the bar, and ordering a few drinks. George grunted a non-committal reply. "How poetic you are this fine evening," he said sarcastically. George sent his friend a narrowed glare, and Howl laughed. "Alright, so is it Frank or Jane that's got you upset already?" he questioned curiously.

"Frank, of course. Why can't the bastard just go back to America? I thought he'd be gone by now," he muttered bitterly.

"And you're worried about the attachment between him and Emilia?"

"He's no good for her. How can she possibly like him?" he questioned with quiet frustration.

"Hmm, it's a bit of a puzzle, particularly when she's not in a relationship with anyone and he's a charming fellow," Howl suggested sarcastically.

"She's in a relationship. With me. Just because it's not a _relationship_ relationship doesn't mean –"

"It _does_ mean she's single. And if she wants Frank, she'll go to Frank. If she wants you, she'll go to you. Freaking out isn't going to help your situation," he pointed out.

"We're moving in together again. Tomorrow she'll be shifting all her things into my apartment. What do you make of that?" George questioned coolly. Howl sighed.

"You're putting yourself in a bad position. You're becoming 'the roommate'. You don't date 'the roommate', you bring dates home when 'the roommate' is sleeping," he said reasonably.

"No. It's different. I'm planning on convincing her that she doesn't need her own bed. Things are going to be different now," George objected firmly.

"You're only going to get hurt," Howl warned.

"Seven and a half years ago I might have listened to you. But now, I don't give a damn," he replied simply, taking the drinks and leaving the bar to head towards Emilia, who was still chatting with Brandyne and Elton. "There you go, bub," he said, passing her the martini in his hand. She accepted it with a quick smile and a mouthed 'thank you' as Brandyne babbled on about 'yuppies' or 'puppies' or something or other.

"Knightley, do you like puppies?" Brandyne questioned loudly. George blinked in surprise.

"Uh, doesn't everyone?" he replied stupidly.

"Oh, not puppy _dogs_, Knightley!" Brandyne giggled. "No, _puppies_," she repeated.

"Don't you mean 'yuppies'?" he questioned with a frown. Brandyne's eager grin instantly fell as she realised her mistake.

"Oh. No, in Texas we call them 'puppies'," she insisted hastily.

"Ahh... right. I was just wondering if I could borrow Emilia for a minute," he requested. Brandyne's eyes glimmered eagerly as she glanced between the couple.

"Oh, of _course_! You two have fun," she said, with a rather obvious wink, pulling Elton away with haste.

"All the subtlety of a punch in the nose, that woman," Emilia muttered, watching the couple disappear in a cloud of Brittany Spears perfume. "Thanks for saving me. I thought I was going to inflict some serious damage in a minute," she said, turning back to George.

"I live to serve," he replied with a small nod. She rolled her pale eyes.

"Hmm. I doubt that," she laughed, linking her arm in his and sipping her drink with a small sigh. "I'm worried about Haley," she confessed, glancing over to the little blonde waif who was now speaking to Taylor, but her attention was practically fixed on Elton and Brandyne.

"She's the kind of girl that needs worrying about," he conceded.

"But the arrogance of Elton, to bring that _woman_ here, parading her in front of Haley! He's so cruel," she muttered bitterly.

"People do strange things when they're hurting," George shrugged. Emilia turned to him with a surprised expression.

"I thought you hated Elton."

"I do. But I can understand him a little," he replied simply. "He likes someone, throws himself out there, and not only does she not like him back, she also had no idea of how he felt, and even assumed he liked her friend. It's a bit of a blow to the ego," he explained.

"That doesn't justify going to America and bringing home some floozy," she pointed out.

"He's hurting," George repeated. Emilia rolled her eyes.

"Fine. But I don't forgive him," she said petulantly. He smiled in a bitter-sweet manner.

"Of course not. But just try not to judge him," he requested, just as the doors opened from backstage, the room instantly filling with cast members, and Emilia sped off to go congratulate the elated Eli.

"It was wonderful, cariad," Howl assured his adopted child with a wide smile.

"Nada, I was only in the chorus!" she laughed.

"That doesn't matter. You were still perfect," William interjected, pressing a quick kiss to his beloved's lips.

"And you looked way cuter than the rest of them," Emilia pointed out playfully, linking arms. "It was awesome. I can't wait till you're the lead and show everyone up," she gushed.

"Em, you can't say that," Eli hissed.

"Everyone is too busy dancing already to notice, babe," she waved her off. "You were epic. And you're only going to get better when they actually let you be the star of the show, like you deserve," she insisted. Eli blushed and hid a quick grin, but it was clear that the prospect was quite exciting for her.

Emilia practically dragged her friend to the dance floor with drinks in hand, ready to lose themselves in the thrill of the evening. The party was elegant and sophisticated, but for the girls, fun could be had anywhere. Emilia was too busy enjoying herself to really take note of what was going on around her. Not that she would have made much sense of it all.

She missed the short but snappish little altercation between Frank and Jane, she didn't notice George's angry scowls in the younger gentleman's direction, she didn't take in William's glares towards the second soprano, Henrietta's babbling was something distant and unimportant to her, but she _did_ hear a portion of a conversation between Taylor and Elton that infuriated her.

"You have to dance, Elton, it's a party!" Taylor had laughed, when Emilia stopped to get a drink.

"Well if you're asking me I'd be happy to," he replied with a charming grin. Taylor giggled.

"No, not me. But I was thinking someone else, Elton. What about Haley? She hasn't danced at all this evening, and I'm sure she'd be a lovely partner," she suggested. Elton instantly scowled, and glanced around to Haley, who was within earshot, blushing prettily by the bar. He sneered, and turned back to Taylor.

"I would, you know, but I think I hear my girlfriend calling me. And I'm too old to dance, anyway," he said simply, walking away from a bewildered Taylor. Emilia was instantly filled with anger and mortification for Haley's sake, the poor girl looked devastated!

But before she could swoop in with kind words and a comforting smile, someone beat her to it. George stepped up to the girl with the same warm smile she had intended on giving.

"Hey Luna. Want to dance? You've been a bit of a loner this evening," he commented. Haley instantly looked thrilled, and completely relieved, the embarrassment disappearing from her face.

"Yes please!" she giggled excitedly, sliding off her bar stool. George took her arm and led her to the dance floor like the gentleman he was, just as a sweet and reasonably slow pop song came on. Haley was content to place her hands on his forearms and sway a little as they chatted. Emilia was instantly filled with admiration for George – when he wanted to, he could be the sweetest man in existence.

"Eyeballing the prize?" came a chirpy voice form behind. Emilia jumped slightly in surprise, glancing around to see Frank behind her.

"Sometimes I forget how nice he can be," she sighed simply.

"Hmm. Made a move yet?" he questioned conversationally. Emilia rolled her pale eyes.

"Quiet, you. I thought you were going back to the states already," she pointed out. He shrugged.

"My Aunt is being a bit difficult. She wants me to come back, but I have reasons to stay here," he answered simply, giving her a quick wink. Emilia knew that he wanted her to feel honoured, but she was reaching a point where she couldn't be bothered to care. Frank was confusing and more trouble than he was worth, but she still at least found him amusing.

"Your Aunt controls everything?"

"Pretty much, yeah," he laughed. "I'm a bit of a 'puppy', as that crazy Texan lady said. But she raised me. I owe her a lot, I guess," he added in brief explanation, before turning back to George and Haley. "They're a cute couple, you know," he pointed out.

"I guess so. He looks really tall compared to her," she commented.

"Well, you don't have anything to worry about, I don't think she's his type," he added comfortingly.

"Huh?" she questioned with a raised brow.

"He's into the smart girls. Like Jane. The totally perfect ones," he explained whilst shrugging. Emilia frowned slightly.

"No one is perfect."

"Yeah, but there are some who're way more perfect than others," he pointed out. "I'm serious. He likes girls who are interested in stuff like medicine, like Jane. Haley just works in fashion. He'd never bite that line, she's not good enough for him," he expanded.

It was as if Frank had fired a gun to Emilia's belly. His comment struck her hard, and she didn't even understand why.

"I mean, he's only _really_ interested in girls who are gorgeous and talented and intelligent and not superficial. Haley doesn't stand a chance," he continued.

"Haley _is_ gorgeous," she stammered out weakly.

"Not enough for him. I mean, look at _Jane_. She's a bit miserable, but you can't deny that she's stunning. I just don't think he goes for blondes," he reasoned. Emilia lowered her eyes. She knew she shouldn't believe a word Frank was saying, because he hardly knew George, but his words did ring true to her ears, and it was hardly a confidence booster.

She wasn't good enough for George. It didn't take a genius to work that one out.

"Emilia, there you are," the man himself said with a happy grin a little later that evening, out on the theatre balcony. She felt terribly elegant, but also terribly tragic, standing out there alone in the cool night air. She stared out into the city as she sipped a glass of champagne, thoughts spinning around madly in her head.

"Oh. Hey, George," she greeted, pulling on a smile.

"Bored already? You're so anti-social," he laughed. She tried to laugh too, but it died in her throat.

"Uh, having fun?" she questioned. He shrugged.

"I dunno. Haley really is a sweet girl. I don't give her enough credit, she's weird, but she wouldn't hurt a fly. She's quite lovely, really, when you get to know her," he answered simply.

"I knew it. I told you she was great," she insisted. He laughed.

"Yeah, alright, I'll agree. It just makes me angry, though. I mean, I can understand Elton, but I still think it was quite rude to say what he said right in front of her," he commented. "The poor girl looked heartbroken. It was just cruel," he muttered bitterly.

"I know. He's a real Grinch, that one," she replied, sipping her champagne.

"But I don't think he's trying to hurt her, you know. I think he's just trying to lash out at you," he commented. Emilia sighed, and nodded.

"I won't lie. I _did_ want him to end up with Haley, and he can't forgive me for it. I had no idea he liked me and I did what I could to set them up, _I_ was silly, but he's just being ridiculous and petty now," she muttered.

"Hmm. I'm impressed. That's the most honest speech I've ever heard from you," he commented with a laugh. Emilia rolled her eyes.

"I can be honest. This 'matchmaker' thing _did_ blow up in my face, and it's unfair that Haley has to pay the price for it," she replied. "I'm so angry with Elton. But I'm angrier with myself," she muttered. George wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to his chest in a comforting gesture.

"You were just trying to help, after all," he conceded. "I don't approve. But at least you can recognise that you made a mistake," he acknowledged. She nodded.

"You two! Hiding out here? You should be dancing!" James called laughingly as he stuck his head out onto the balcony.

"Who are you going to dance with?" George asked, releasing his companion from his grip.

"Well you, of course, if you actually bothered to ask me," Emilia laughed. He looked somewhat surprised, but grinned.

"Really? Well, consider this me asking you to dance," he declared. She grinned.

"We aren't _that_ much brother and sister to make dancing with each other weird, you know," she pointed out slyly.

"Brother and sister? I _really_ hope not," he laughed, taking her hand, and pulling her back into the room with broad smiles plastered on both their faces.

**A/N: Ah, holidays. Always good for relaxing, and working furiously on the horrendous amount of schoolwork I've been given. Yaaaaaaay. Anyway, I'm getting closer to finishing this, so it looks like it might all be up before I go back to school in February. And then I'm taking my break from fanfiction, and shall hopefully be returning in October. I might post some one-shots and short stories, but nothing major I'm afraid. Sorry about that :S Well, I love you all, and I hope you had a happy new years and a wonderful Christmas!**


	22. Of Strawberries and Strangeness

"_But as the __story__ goes, or it is often told, a new day will arise  
And all the dance halls will be full of skeletons, that are coming back to life,  
And on a grassy hill, the lion will, lay down with the lamb,  
And I won't ever be lonely again,"_

-Bright Eyes, 'I won't ever be happy again'

"You suck."

"I have to go to work!"

"You suck even more."

"I have to finish off the financial reports today or I won't be able to go to the damn party!"

"I spent _hours_ planning it. _Hours_. Days. Weeks. Months. Years. I've spent the best years of my life planning this party, when _I_ should have been working – and now you say that you have to _leave_ me to unpack all my belongings by _myself_?" Emilia questioned incredulously. George rolled his eyes.

"We do the same thing for this party every year, Em, which is why it's called the _annual_ Aemilius Knight Productions Evening, you spent hardly a minute running over the details with the _hired_ party planner last week," he reminded her.

"Minor detail! It's the _principle_!" she cried firmly. George couldn't resist a small chuckle as he watched his adorable roommate glare at him from behind the kitchen bench, which was covered in a random assortment of her possessions.

"The principle of what, Emilia?" he questioned patiently.

"The principle that it's _Saturday_, and you went out last night. You shouldn't work on a Saturday when you were up until three this morning at the theatre," she insisted. "And I _so_ did not only spend one minute hashing over the details. I added a whole bunch of new things," she added firmly.

"So are you upset that I'm not going to be here, helping you unpack, or that I'm going to be at work, finishing off the reports and making sure everything is set up for tonight?" he questioned with a raised brow.

"Both."

"Well then, we'll have to reach a compromise," he decided simply. "You come to work with me today and speak to the party planners, make sure everything is working out, whilst _I_ do the reports, and then we'll finish way earlier, come back here, finish unpacking, and go to the party," he decided.

Emilia frowned slightly.

"Damn. That's a good idea. I hate it when you have good ideas," she sighed. George chuckled, leant over the bench, and ruffled his companion's hair. She gave a reluctant grin. "Alright. Can you give me ten minutes to get changed?" she questioned.

"I can give you fifteen, even though you're probably going to take half an hour," he replied teasingly, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"I hate boxes," she sighed, shifting through the sea of cardboard that held all her possessions.

"I don't understand why you packed everything up. You're moving next door anyway, and Haley's lease doesn't expire for another two weeks," he commented, as she dug into one of the many marked 'clothes'.

"It's elementary, Watson. I like packing," she answered simply, digging out a pair of black jodhpur pants and tossing them over her shoulder. "Me thinks the wardrobe in the spare room is going to be a bit small," she commented.

"We'll go to Ikea and get some more storage stuff," he said simply.

"Now will you be able to do your big masculine thing to get my desk into the study, or will I have to call Will and Howl to come over and help?" she questioned, tugging a white singlet shirt out of a space bag.

"I'll manage," he assured her with a laugh.

"Seen my navy blazer? The one with the gold buckles that makes me look like a sailor," she questioned with a slight frown, glancing around the room.

"Is it in the box marked 'jackets and blazers'?" he offered dryly, nudging a box out of the kitchen with his foot.

"Aha! There you are, you sneaky little ninja box!" she cried, instantly diving into it to pull out her blazer. She picked up a pair of lace up heels to add them to the pile. "Alright, I'll be ten minutes, I swear," she assured him, grabbing her makeup bag and disappearing into the main bathroom.

"I'll be waiting," he said to the empty room, sipping his coffee in silence.

Twenty minutes later they were walking out the apartment to the elevator as Emilia discussed the changes she had been making to the annual _Aemilius Knight_ _Productions_ evening. It was a party to celebrate the opening of the company, and that year was its tenth birthday, thus calling for something special.

"Garden parties are awesome if you do them right. I borrowed some of the ideas we're going to be using in Eli and Will's wedding, like the fairy lights and white canopies and that, but the strawberries thing was my idea," she explained.

"Explain again how you turned my dignified and sophisticated party into a picnic involving strawberries?" George questioned in confusion as they left the apartment building.

"Well since the place we're renting out got these hot houses, they've been growing strawberries there all year long. They took the hot houses off all the bushes so there's strawberries _everywhere_, and they picked a whole bunch of them for us," she began. "So they'll be in baskets hanging from the trees with red ribbon, and people can just walk through them and eat as many as you like. And the whole menu involves strawberries too," she added. "It'll be _way_ better. Not too big, but not too intimate. And because it's a garden party, you can dress as formally or as casually as you want," she added.

"Let me guess. You're going to dress formally?" he questioned dryly.

"Of course! And I think the fresh air would be really good for Antoinette, too. I mean, Howl was _so_ not willing to let her go to two parties in two nights. The theatre took a lot out of her yesterday," she explained, as they wound their way through people on the busy London streets on the way to George's office.

"Let's just hope so. I know she's bored as all hell right now," he commented.

"I can't believe those bastards made her quit," she sighed sadly.

"It's only a small company, Em. They couldn't afford to give her sick leave _as well as_ maternity leave. I don't agree with it, but there's not much we can do," he shrugged.

"So she hasn't given you an answer on your offer?" she questioned anxiously. He shook his head.

"There wasn't much I could give her that suited her experience. And she thinks it's charity," he shrugged.

"And you've got _nothing_ on the printed media advertising team?" she asked hopefully. He shook his head.

"We're already overstaffed in that department. In a few months, after the baby's born, I'll see if there's somewhere I can put her in, but I have a feeling she's going to be too sick to work for a while," he informed her. Emilia nodded sadly.

"I know. She's always had bad health. But I _know_ that if she had something more to do she'd feel much better," she sighed. "I've already given her all the advertising I can for the label, but she's used to handling everything with a team. Freelance is just something she's not used to," she explained.

"Right now she needs to focus on getting better. Howl's worried out of his mind for her."

"I don't know if I'd be able to do it," she commented suddenly.

"Do what?" George questioned with a raised brow.

"Sit at home like that all the time. She's probably going to end up being a stay-at-home Mum, too. I don't think I'd be able to live like that," she explained.

"Someone will have to look after the baby, and she'd still be doing freelance, anyway," he reasoned.

"I _know_, but I really love going into the office everyday. She spends most of her time at home, all by herself. And even after the baby is born, she still won't have anyone to talk to," she pointed out.

"If I were in her case, I'd juggle," George informed her randomly.

"Like, take up juggling? With coloured balls and everything?" she asked with a raised brow and somewhat teasing eyes.

"Of course not. But juggle work between the two parents. Take the baby into the office, something like that," he reasoned.

"Hmm. I'd like to see you try that," she laughed.

"I think they'll be fine. Antoinette and Howl have been together nearly seven years now, they'll work something out. Polliwog is going to be well taken care of," he assured her.

"Just as long as I get to babysit I'm good with whatever arrangement they have," Emilia laughed as they reached the lobby of the office building where George worked.

"Hmm. Good to know you're so selfless there, bub," he chuckled, shaking his head gently.

~ * ~

Howl averted his eyes from his favourite student. That had been his shameful practise of the past few weeks – avoidance.

Since their little... tryst in his office, things had turned from difficult to pure hell.

"We _can't_," he'd insisted forcefully. Her impossibly pale eyes were narrowed in determination, filling with tears that she was too proud to wipe away.

"I don't care that you're my teacher. I don't care. I don't care that you're older, that you're smarter than me, or that you're sick, I just don't _care_," she responded angrily. His eyes widened slightly with the word 'sick'. How much did she know? "Don't look so surprised, I'm not smart but I'm not an idiot. I _know_ you're sick, and I don't care!" she cried.

"You don't know. You _don't_ know – and if you did you would let this be over!" he hissed furiously, before sighing, and running a hand through his hair. "You _are_ smart, Antoinette. You're smart and beautiful and talented and clever, but I'm your _teacher_, I'm nearly eleven years older than you, and like you said, I'm sick," he sighed, his tone desperate and weakened. He didn't have the strength to argue. Her eyes softened.

"I know. I know all these things, but I don't care, sir, I really –"

"Howl."

"What?" she exclaimed in surprise.

"Howl. You should call me Howl. I know this is – this shouldn't happen, but clearly this warrants the use of first names," he explained with a small shrug. She smiled.

"Howl. _Howl_. I like it," she said softly. He inwardly shivered to hear her say his name.

"Antoinette, you're very young. I don't think you can understand what we just did quite yet," he muttered finally.

"Understand? We kissed, Howl. We kissed right there on that couch and we shouldn't have, but we _did_, and I don't see why we shouldn't kiss again," she said with as much rationality as she could. She spoke passionately, with slightly trembling hands.

"Because! I'm your teacher, I'm older than you, and people like _me_ aren't supposed to fall in love!" he cried suddenly, his eyes widening at his realisation.

"In love? You mean – you love me?" she asked softly, her voice filled with fragile hope. He lowered his eyes. "You're an idiot if you think you don't deserve to love someone, and be loved by someone. You're a good man, and even if you're sick, it doesn't mean you don't deserve the right to be happy!" she objected, upon seeing no response. "A – Are you dying?" she questioned, her voice trembling with fear.

He shook his head.

"It's not – it's not a _disease_," he muttered bitterly. "It's... a disorder," he finally admitted. Toni's eyes softened.

"Is it bi-polar?" she asked almost immediately. He glanced up in surprise to see that she had guessed so quickly. "My Dad. He had it. They say that's why he left," she confessed. "So? Is it?"

"Yes. I was diagnosed when I was a child," he answered finally. Toni immediately stepped forwards to pull him into a tight hug. "I don't need your pity, Antoinette," he practically snapped.

"This isn't pity. This is love. This is what happens when you fall in love with an amazing man who deserves to be loved more than anyone else in the world," she explained, her voice muffled as she pressed her face against his shirt.

"You shouldn't love me. There are other people in the world that deserve your love, Antoinette, but I don't," he said calmly, pulling away from her. "I – I'm unstable. I'll only hurt you," he informed her, his voice near to a whisper, and very pained.

"But I _love_ you, Howl. I can't choose who I love, I love _you_ and that's all that matters!" she cried desperately.

"You're so naive! Love isn't everything, Antoinette, love has done _nothing_ for me in my life, it only hurts!" he cried wildly, pulling completely away from her. "It's _too much_ for you to handle! You're too young, too innocent, it'll destroy you to see who I really am and know that you can't help me!" he continued angrily.

"But I –"

"_No_! Do you want to know why I'm living in England now, Antoinette?" he questioned with great frustration. "It's because my family can't handle who I am anymore! My mother nearly fell apart when I first told her I wanted to die, _she_ couldn't handle it, and I know that _you_ won't, either!" he snapped finally. Toni swallowed rather obviously, and wiped a stray tear away.

"So what now?" she asked quietly. Howl sighed.

"You have to stop loving me," he murmured finally.

"A – And will _you_ stop loving _me_?" she questioned fearfully.

"I'll never stop loving you, Antoinette, but this is the way it's supposed to be," he answered. "Whenever I think of you I feel like... you make me crazy. I can't think straight, I feel faint and feverish, and I _can't_ handle it," he explained miserably. She lowered her face and hid back a sob. "There's a whole world out there for you, Antoinette. You're perfect and wonderful and... you're an absolute goddess, but I – I can't give you what you deserve, and I could never forgive myself for causing you pain," he said quietly.

"But you're _you_. I don't understand why –"

"Because I'm not always me. There are two sides of me as different as day and night, and the night me is not the man you're in love with," he explained.

The bell rang, signalling the end of lunch, and Antoinette's return to class.

"You should go," he murmured pathetically.

"You're not even going to try for this? Try to make this work?" she questioned incredulously.

"It can't work. There's no point trying," he shrugged. Her eyes narrowed in frustration once more, and she picked up her bag.

"Fine. _Fine_. But this is _not_ over!" she cried angrily, before storming out of his office.

It had been two weeks since then, and barely a word had passed between them. He had coincidentally been at a meeting at the time of her student mentor meeting, and in class he barely hazarded even the slightest glances towards her.

"Alright. Today is the due date for your compositions. We'll be doing this alphabetically, today we'll start with... Trianne Albertson, and we'll finish with –" he glanced to his role once more, and felt his heart instantly sink. "Antoinette Noëlle. The rest of the alphabet has an extra day to practise," he instructed, clearing his throat and straightening his papers as if it didn't bother him at all that he would hear Antoinette sing at the end of the lesson.

But it did. It was all he could think about through the other student's performances, it was an impending sense of anxiety that was driving him mad.

"Thank you, Patrick, that was very... interesting," he said at the end of a student's attempt at beatboxing. "Next is – Antoinette," he called out, trying his best not to sound too disappointed. "What is the name of your piece?" he asked, his tone clipped.

"'The Joy in Acceptance'," she replied, her tone just as clipped and detached. He nodded, and finally hazarded a glance towards her.

She didn't look at all well, pale and fragile and it was a huge effort not to wrap her in his arms and kiss her misery away. She sat down before the piano, and pressed a sustaining C sharp minor, before moving to an A minor. For a few bars she simply let the chords ring out, before opening her mouth.

"_So you say there are spaces, open and wide,  
Believe me there's days longer than nights,  
And you will be happy, the minute you try, but you don't try, no you don't try..."_

He shifted uncomfortably. She had a very good voice, technically it wasn't that impressive, but it had a jazz-indie-coffee-shop tone to it, and she could always handle the songs put before her. It was a simple tune, but it struck a chord within him, because he knew _he_ was the intended recipient in the room.

_  
"And you speak of a fever, that burns you inside,_

_As you explain to your mother how you have wanted to die,_

_So she kisses your fingers, and says;_

'_My darling, but why? When there is so much more? There is so much more..._

_Do you know there are spaces, open and wide?_

_Believe me, there are days longer than nights,_

_And you will be happy, if only you'd try,_

_So won't you try? Won't you try?_'"

The class immediately broke out into applause, just as the bell rung, and students stood up to shuffle out of the classroom. She rose from the piano stool, her face lowered.

"Antoinette."

She halted her walk to the door, and turned slowly to regard her teacher with the most miserable expression he had ever seen her wear. She looked positively heartbroken.

The door closed behind them, leaving the classroom empty. Howl was sitting atop his desk, mirroring his student's expression. She stepped forwards with hesitation, but he didn't tell her to leave. She gripped his hand gently when she was near enough to.

"You wrote that song?" he asked softly. She nodded. "It's very good."

"It's simple," she shrugged quietly.

"A lot of good things are," he replied, trying to meet her pale eyes. "Are you okay? With what happened? How we left things?" he questioned gently. She shook her head.

"No. I – I want to be with you, Howl. I love you. I can't _stop_ loving you," she confessed sadly.

"I – I want to be with you too, Antoinette," he admitted. Her head rose instantly, eyes filled with hope. He gently placed his hand on the side of her cheek, and she turned into his caress. "I can't stop thinking about you. I thought I could ignore what I feel but I – I _can't_," he explained with restraint.

"So? _Can _we be together?" she asked hopefully.

"Antoinette, there's too much at stake here," he replied, running his thumb over the curve of her jaw. "We shouldn't. It's wrong, I could lose my teaching licence, you would lose the respect of everyone who loves you, our livelihoods would disappear," he continued. She leant forwards and met his lips in an insistent kiss, to which he responded with vigour.

"Then we can wait a little. Please, I just want to be with you," she begged. He sighed wearily. "Howl, we both want to be with each other, that's not under question, the question is _when_ can we be together?" she asked insistently.

"Soon, love, soon," he replied, leaning forwards for another kiss. "There's barely seven months of the school year left. I know it seems a while to wait, but – but that's all we can do," he answered, when they pulled away.

"I don't _want_ to wait for seven months before we can be together!" she objected petulantly.

"It's still illegal. You're a minor, and I'm your _teacher_. We have to wait till you've finished school, and we'll probably have to wait till you turned eighteen, too," he explained.

"I don't turn eighteen for nearly a year! And if seven months is too long to wait, I'm _not_ going to wait a whole year!" she cried with frustration. Howl gave a small, bitter smile.

"I don't want to wait either, Antoinette. But it's all we can do," he retorted.

"We can still be together now. We just can't let anyone know," she reasoned. He sighed.

"It's too risky. If someone were to find out about –"

"No one is _going_ to find out. We'll keep it a secret," she said in a hushed, conspiratorial tone. Howl chuckled.

"_Someone_ will find out, somehow," he reasoned, wrapping a loose arm around her waist and pressing his forehead against hers. "Hmm. God, I've wanted this for so long now," he sighed, allowing his eyes to gently close as he breathed in the air around her and indulged in her closeness.

"Are you saying you could live without me for seven months?" she whispered teasingly. He shook his head.

"No, I don't think I could," he confessed quietly.

"Then why not? I love you, Howl, and you said before that you love me. If we love each other, then nothing else matters," she reasoned. He slowly opened his eyes, and stared deeply into her impossibly pale ice-blue ones.

"I do love you, Antoinette. I know I shouldn't, but... I do."

"And I love _you_. So why can't we? Why can't we keep it a secret and be together?" she questioned firmly.

"You'd need to understand what we're getting into," he began slowly. She nodded.

"I do. I know the risks, I know what could happen, but I _love_ you, I don't care," she insisted firmly.

"We'd have to act like absolutely nothing has changed. We'd hardly ever be able to see each other like this. We'd constantly be lying to people we're close to, sneaking around, it'll be like living a lie," he warned. "And what about Valerie?" he asked, his voice somewhat cool.

"I don't know what to say to her," she confessed simply.

"Do you love her?" he questioned, after a short pause. He didn't hide the jealously from his voice.

"Not like I love you," she assured him, pushing a strand of his light brown hair from his face. "If I broke up with her, she'd work out the truth. She already suspects something," she said quietly. Howl took a deep breath.

"I know I'm going to regret this, but... then maybe you shouldn't break up with her," he muttered bitterly.

"But I want to be with _you_, not Valerie!" she insisted.

"I know, love, I know," he replied, cupping her face with his warm hands. He stole a kiss from her lips. "But no one would suspect a thing if you two stayed together. And even if they _did_, knowing you're with Valerie would be enough to destroy those suspicions. If the world thinks you don't like men, then they'll never suspect _us_," he reasoned against her lips, before kissing her again, and running a hand into her blonde locks.

"Would you be okay?"

"No. I don't want to share you, but it's the best cover we could ever imagine," he replied hastily, before returning to the kiss.

"I have to go to class," she said reluctantly into his mouth. He nodded.

"Hmm. I know," he answered, but didn't stop kissing her.

"Seriously! I really do!" she laughed.

"Alright. Go," he sighed, pulling away.

"Are you free after school?" she questioned hopefully.

"Where could we go? We can't be seen in public," he reminded her. She shrugged. "Lord, this is going to sound so sinister..." he sighed.

"What?"

"My house is just outside Rosings Park. I know it's moving way too quickly, but it's the only place I can think of," he explained.

"How would I get there?" she asked instantly.

"Well, if we were _very_ careful I guess I could drive you," he muttered.

"No. It's too risky. I'll take the bus," she decided. He nodded, pulling out a post-it.

"This is the address. I have a dog, but he's only a puppy, really. He won't hurt you," he assured her, scribbling down something on the surface. "I think if you catch the 128 you should get there pretty quickly" he said, passing her the note. She glanced at it.

"This isn't that far from where I live. About a twenty minute walk," she commented in surprise.

"It'd be safer if I drove you back. No one would see," he reasoned. She shook her head.

"No. I'll walk. If we're going to do this in secret then we can't be too careful," she insisted. He smiled.

"So... you'll come?" he asked hopefully. She nodded, and grinned.

"Now I _really_ have to go to class," she muttered, glancing at the clock.

"Alright. I'll see you this afternoon then," he laughed, giving her a quick kiss before she grabbed her bag and ducked out of the classroom.

Howl sighed.

He knew it was wrong, but he was weak, and it felt so right.

~ * ~

"Why are you smiling?" Howl asked his wife curiously as he helped her out of the car. She had a small grin on her full red lips, placing her hand atop the bump on her stomach.

"Nothing. I just keep thinking about the beginning of it all lately," she shrugged simply. He raised a brow.

"The beginning of _what_?"

"Our relationship. Ever since I found out about Polliwog I've just been thinking about it," she explained with another small grin. "We were so paranoid in the first few months," she laughed. Howl felt himself chuckle.

"Yes, we were quite ridiculous. But at least we never got caught," he reasoned, linking their arms as they walked up the grassy pathway to where the party was being held. It was the mid-afternoon and a pleasant glow had taken over the park, which had been decorated beautifully thanks to Emilia, with white canopies, fairy lights and baskets of strawberries hanging from the branches of elderly oaks.

"Hmm. Unless you count my Mother," she pointed out. Howl winced slightly with the memory.

"Forgive me for saying so, but she _did_ go a bit crazy," he muttered thoughtfully.

"Yeah. She's like that," Antoinette laughed.

"Do you miss her?" Howl questioned suddenly. She glanced up in surprise.

"My Mother?" she clarified, to which he nodded. "Uhh... I don't know. We never really got along that well, and she made her feelings towards you and I being together quite clear," she said thoughtfully.

"She was upset. I would freak out _too_ if I came home to see my child in bed with her teacher," he rationalised.

"Yeah, but she went _completely_ overboard," she retorted. Howl chuckled.

"Perhaps. Only because she loves you, though," he reminded her. She gave a small, reluctant grin, and pressed a short kiss to the side of his lips.

"Well I have all the love I need right here," she determined. "In fact, I'm spoilt for love. I'm so lucky," she sighed happily, as Howl chuckled.

"Hear that, Polliwog? Mummy thinks she's spoilt. Wait till she gets home," he commented, placing a hand on his wife's expanding belly.

"I hope that means you're going to do the washing up and wake up twenty times during the night because Baby is tap dancing on my bladder instead of me," she laughed.

"I _can_ do the washing up, but unfortunately, I can't handle the rest. Sorry, love," he grinned, pressing a small kiss to her hand.

"Well, that'll do for tonight, I think," she shrugged happily, sighing as she took in the fresh outside air.

"You're looking much healthier. Being outside has really helped you," he commented thoughtfully.

"I told you. When I got a cold my Dad used to stick me outside in the snow until I toughened up. Nature always helps you get better," she replied.

"Yes, but your father did some pretty strange things," he laughed. "I don't intend on sticking you out in the snow anytime soon, but maybe we should go for walks in the evening. Being cooped up inside hasn't helped you much," he rationalised.

"I completely and totally agree. Let's go waterskiing," she decided firmly. Howl laughed once more.

"After Polliwog is born, caraid. And after you've drugged me into doing it," he replied.

"Discussing something dirty, or can I join in the conversation?" came a curious voice. The two glanced up to see George standing before them, dressed nicely as always in a grey three-piece suit, the first few buttons of his shirt unbuttoned, his hair mussed casually, expensive sneakers peeping out from beneath his trousers.

"If it were sexual she wouldn't need to drug me to ensure my cooperation," Howl pointed out with a smirk. George sighed.

"And yet I have to get you drunk each time we make out," he exclaimed teasingly.

"Half of Rosings Park probably thinks we're gay together," Howl pointed out with a wince.

"And what do you think it's going to take to convince the other half?"

"I dunno, I think my _pregnant wife_ might have dispelled any suspicions they might have had," he threw back, wrapping an arm around Antoinette's waist. "Go get someone else pregnant here. Then no one will think we're gay, and I can stop getting weird phone calls in the middle of the night from large men called 'Pookie'," he advised, gesturing randomly at the crowd. George laughed, until he followed the line of Howl's gesture. When Howl realised his mistake, he instantly lowered his arm.

He had pointed (completely by accident) to Emilia, who was talking to Frank, and looking as if she were having a marvellous time. George stared at her with a somewhat painful expression, before giving another laugh, this one forced and hollow.

"Yes. I'll totally go get Frank preggers. Wait here, it'll only take a minute," he drawled sarcastically. "I'm going to the bar. Want anything?"

"We're good, thanks," Howl answered. George nodded, and left the couple.

"Ouch. That was close," Antoinette winced when he was out of earshot. Howl released a long breath.

"I should really be going easier on him. He's finding it pretty tough at the moment," he sighed.

"I just can't believe that Emi has no idea he's in love with her. She _must_ know, for God's sake," Antoinette muttered thoughtfully.

"She might _know_, but not believe it. Maybe she thinks it's too good to be true that George has feelings for her," he suggested with a shrug.

"You might have a point there," she replied. "But she's so confident! No, she'd _have_ to know," she insisted.

"Well, if you say so, but I wouldn't just assume so. People have layers, cariad," he reminded her, entwining their hands. Toni sighed, and rested her head against her husband's shoulder.

"Poor George," she murmured as she watched him go up to the bar. "It must be so hard for him. All those years he's had to suffer whilst Emilia goes along obliviously..." she continued with sad eyes. Howl rubbed his wife's arm comfortingly. "Do you think they'll ever be together?" she asked suddenly. Howl shrugged.

"I honestly don't know. I'd like to say yes, but... I mean, look at her," he sighed, gesturing over to the young woman. She was chatting eagerly with Frank, who had just brushed her shoulder with his fingers in a rather intentional gesture. "I don't think George should be that hopeful. It just doesn't seem that realistic," he added, turning back to George, who was still by the bar, his eyes glued to Emilia and Frank. He looked like he was about to be sick. "Maybe one day. We just have to wait and see how things... pan out," he said finally, gripping his wife's hand, and leading them into the garden.

~ * ~

In Emilia's educated opinion the night was a success. Despite a few small altercations (the first between Brandyne and Henrietta, the second between Brandyne and George ['That _WOMAN _has a special place in Red-Neck hell reserved just for her!'], and the third between Brandyne and Jane), things went smoothly. But she couldn't help feeling completely bewildered all the same.

She had just escaped one of George's boring business partners to run into Jane on her way to the ladies room. Jane looked stunning in her teal coloured cocktail dress – but Emilia hardly noticed that when she saw tears running down Jane's cheeks.

"Uh – Jane? Are you alright?" she asked hesitatingly, stepping forwards. "I know Brandyne is a bit of a loud-mouth bitch. It's okay. You're better than her," she assured kindly, not knowing where her sudden burst of pleasantness was coming from. She hated Jane – so why was she being nice? Jane only scoffed in reply, and wiped her cheeks.

"Save your pity, please. I'm fine. I don't care about Brandyne," she snapped shortly. Emilia blinked in surprise. Having heard some of the things Brandyne said, she would feel pretty hurt herself! The woman was droning on about getting her a 'nice good position' back in Texas, and a husband to boot, as if she were bestowing some sort of charity on poor, helpless Jane Fairfax. The smugness of the woman's behaviour was disgusting, and Jane stormed off in a fit, only to be rescued by Frank.

But Frank's assistance wasn't needed (and he probably only did it out of pity, anyway), as Jane screamed something angrily to him. He stormed off bitterly, and no one had seen him for the rest of the night.

"Uh – alright. I'm just trying to help. Do you need anything?" Emilia replied weakly.

"I need you to just leave me alone! Why do you have to constantly butt yourself into other people's lives?" she questioned angrily, her bright green eyes flashing darkly. Emilia stepped back in shock. "Everything _has_ to be about you! You _always_ have to get your way! You already took George from me, do you have to steal –"

It was then she stopped herself with a weak sob.

"I'm sorry. I'm just – tired, I guess," she muttered quietly.

"I understand," Emilia assured her, but she really didn't at all. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she questioned after a pause had enveloped them.

"The best thing you can do is to just leave me alone. Please tell anyone who asks that I'm sick and I'm going home. I'll take a taxi – no need to tell my Aunt," she answered quietly, wrapping her shawl tightly around her shoulders and sweeping away in a flash of teal satin and auburn curls.

Emilia stared at the mirror with a frown on her lips a few hours later as she washed away makeup and brushed her hair out before bed.

She had a distinct feeling that something was going on, and she had no idea what it was.

**A/N: Oh, how do I love you, my pretties? Let me count the ways. I've just spent the last three days locked up in my room desperately trying to finish this story and I've done it. I now have thirty-four chapters sitting happily on my desktop waiting to be posted, and because I love you SO much, here's what I'm going to do.**

**Every twenty-four hours, you will have an update.**

**That's a chapter a day. **

**In twelve days, this will be finished. This story will be done and dusted for you, my pretties. **

**And then you will say goodbye to me for a while, but to compensate for the gross indecency I am committing against you for leaving, I'm giving you this story with much more haste than I normally do. So please actually **_**review**_** the chapters, my lovelies, because I'm getting just under a thousand hits per chapter for this, and about ten reviews. Not that I'm upset or anything, but it's nice to know when you guys like what you're reading. **

**Alright, I've got to go to work now, but I do hope you enjoy what's coming :D**

**PS: the song used is 'The joy in Forgiving/The joy in Acceptance' by Bright Eyes. Who are epic.**


	23. Of Parents and Plans

"_Among the afflictions, with which I've been marked,_

_None so pretentious, and none quite so dark,_

_I get the feeling you're bored with me, _

_Not through habit or frequency,_

_And did your mother have you easily?_

_And if there's someplace else that you would rather be,_

_Then go."_

-Damien Rice, 'Then Go'

"Mister Knightley, sir?" came a timid voice from the intercom in George's office as he overlooked the outgoing forms for the latest advertising production his company was putting out.

"Yes, Sandra?" he replied, pressing down on the little red button, thankful for the brief interruption from paperwork.

"Umm, there's a woman here to see you," she stammered out.

"Is she five foot four, blonde hair, blue eyes, red horns and sharpened pitchfork?" he questioned, unsure of what Emilia was doing in his office in the middle of the day, and why Sandra hadn't let her in already.

"Uhh, not exactly – she uh, says that she's your Mother," she explained quietly.

"Of _course_ I'm his mother! What the hell is wrong with you, stupid girl?" came an agitated background screech. George was suddenly gripped with dread.

"Send her in, please," he sighed, regretting it the moment the words left his mouth. The door to his office was ripped open with an almighty _crash_, and a tall, toned and tanned woman stepped into the threshold, an angry scowl on her heavily painted lips.

"That _woman_ refused to let me in!" she cried angrily. George resisted the urge to hit his head on the desk.

"Mother. What are you doing here?" he questioned as calmly as he could. Simone stalked forwards, perfectly pressed Gucci trousers swishing around her ankles, salon-fresh chocolate brown curls bobbing unnaturally atop her shoulders.

"To visit my only son, you idiot," she snapped, plonking her Berkin bag on his desk with unnecessary force. She looked around the room with a scowl and narrowed hazel eyes. "Your office isn't big enough. And it needs a makeover," she declared instantly.

"So you flew across an ocean to visit your son with no word of warning. Does your husband know about this?" he questioned with a raised brow. She waved him off.

"He's old news. Divorce papers came in last week. I'm getting the house and a fifteen-million settlement out of him," she replied, as if it were no more important to her than a broken nail.

"Should I be giving my condolences or my congratulations?" he questioned dryly. "Because I'm certainly not surprised. Are you trying to bring your total up to ten husbands before you're sixty?" he asked sarcastically.

"Oh quiet, you. I just came to get a key to your apartment, I want to unpack before the next ice age," she practically snapped.

"Unfortunately the spare room is being used at the moment, Mother. I'll gladly book you into a hotel, though," he replied, incredibly thankful that Emilia was living with him again – he couldn't _stand_ having his mother in the same apartment.

"_What_? The spare room is for guests!" she practically screeched. "You've gotten some girl pregnant and you're using the room for the baby. That's it, isn't it!" she cried suddenly, eyes wide.

"A nice story, but unfortunately the truth is a bit less exciting. Em moved in again with me about six weeks ago. She's sleeping in the guest room," he said simply. Simone rolled her eyes.

"You're still single then?"

"Evidently."

"Fine. Your flat is too messy anyway. I'll book myself into a hotel then," she sighed dramatically, as if it were going to be the most difficult thing she'd ever had to do. "Well? How is she then?" she questioned insistently.

"Emilia?"

"No, the Queen," Simone snapped sarcastically. "Of _course_ Emilia. I haven't seen her in an age," she declared, throwing herself down on the chair before his desk. He resisted the urge to grunt in irritation. He just wanted her gone.

He'd never had a particularly good relationship with his mother. His Nanny had a bigger influence in his life than she – she was always out and about and never had much time for him. At the age of sixteen he freed himself from her, and it had been the best thing imaginable for both parties. Simone never had any love to give her son, and made it perfectly clear to him.

"She's fine. Doing well. The label is going strongly," he answered, shuffling a few papers, trying to look busy so Simone would take the hint.

"I know. It's the hottest thing back in LA – everyone wants to be environmentally friendly all of a sudden," she droned. "I assume she's doing the Paris Fashion week?"

"She'll be staying in London till the end of this year, but in January she's planning on going for the Spring 2013 show," he answered.

"Well, that's understandable – London is a bit of a hot spot this year," she said meaningfully. George rolled his dark eyes.

"So _that's_ why you came. To be a part of the hottest thing," he stated with no hints of surprise. He knew his mother better than most.

"Of course not. Now what is this I hear about Sophia's niece having a baby with her Professor?" she questioned eagerly.

"_Antoinette_ is due in January. Her _husband_ is very excited," he said firmly. Simone rolled her eyes.

"Well it's not exciting if they're married. Are they raising it in France?"

"I assume they're staying in England," he shrugged. Simone scoffed.

"Martine will be furious. She'd never get to see it," she sighed.

"Martine hasn't seen her daughter since she kicked her out a good six years ago, might I remind you," he pointed out. "And God knows where Émile is –"

"Dead. Two years ago. Topped himself in the coast of Spain after his mistress left him," she answered simply, inspecting her nails. George's jaw fell slightly.

"A – Are you sure?" he questioned shakily. Simone nodded.

"Quite sure. He hung himself in the cabin of his yacht."

"Fuck. You can't tell Antoinette – Mother, she's too fragile at the moment. Maybe after the baby is born," he insisted firmly. Simone scoffed.

"I'm not going to _tell_ the girl," she swore. George breathed a sigh of relief. "I heard she's having a terrible pregnancy," she commented.

"It's pretty bad. She doesn't need to know her father is dead. It'd be too much for her to take even when she _wasn't_ six and a half months pregnant," he answered briefly. Simone stopped inspecting her nails.

"You think she'd take it badly?" she questioned slowly.

"Of course she would. It doesn't matter if she's not seen him for years – he's her _father_. It would tear her apart," he replied, as if his mother had gone mad to even question it. Simone rose from the chair.

"I need to go find a hotel now. Will you and Emilia meet me for dinner?" she asked. George sighed, and nodded. "Good! Well, I'll probably just get a room at the Ritz – meet me in the restaurant at seven?" she requested, with her best 'I'm your Mummy and you must do everything I ask' voice.

"Fine. But don't tell her about Émile – he was her Uncle too, you know," he warned. Simone nodded, and picked up her bag in a grand sweeping motion.

"Of course. Now I'll see you at seven, darling, in the hotel restaurant. Don't be late, and make sure you bring Emilia!" she demanded, before turning heel and walking right out of the office.

George sighed tiredly as he ran a hand through his dark hair.

What a fun day it promised to be, he thought morbidly.

~ * ~

"So how long do you think she'll stay?" Emilia asked curiously as she changed behind her silk screens later that day.

"I'm not sure. She's ended it with hubby number six – she'll probably do her usual thing, have an affair with a boy half her age, dump him, find some rich idiot, shack up with him, get married in Gretna Green and six months later divorce him and start over again," he sighed morbidly, lying atop her bed with his hands folded over his chest, staring at the ceiling.

"That's a bit cynical," she laughed.

"It's realistic. I've known her all my life – if I can't pick up on her routine then I'm just not worth my salt," he shrugged simply.

"I just wish she'd given some notice. I'm absolutely buggered – I'll probably fall asleep in the middle of dinner," she yawned, stepping out from behind the screens. She wore a simply black satin sheath dress with dark tights, her hair pulled into a simple loose bun, her makeup unchanged from how she had fixed it for work that day. She pulled out a dark purple Burberry coat and slipped it on, grabbing her handbag and sweeping a quick layer of lipstick over her mouth. "Alright, I'm ready," she sighed, after pulling on a pair of black boots.

"And with impressive time. I didn't know you could actually get ready in under fifteen minutes," he said with surprise, sitting up and checking his watch.

"Hmm. Me no care no more," she said simply, stepping out of her bedroom. She had settled in with usual ease into George's apartment, and life was as comfortable as it had always been. The gap between them didn't seem so large when they slept only a few feet away from each other. They flicked the lights off and locked the door as they left, both not exactly feeling up to the evening before them.

Their reluctance was understandable. Both knew that Simone was cold, vain and conniving – her main priorities were for wealth, beauty and power, and her son simply didn't fit into that equation. Which is probably why he slipped off the rails in his teens.

In the mid nineties George started to stray from the path of goodness a little. At that point he had very little connection with anyone, particularly not his mother, and only saw Emilia every now and then. She was a five year old, and five year olds just didn't hang out with boys in their late teens. He dabbled a little with the lifestyle of 'sex, drugs and rock and roll', getting himself expelled from a prestigious boy's boarding school for smoking and sneaking off to get a tattoo with some of his friends. Instead of returning to another school, he left home and moved in with the drummer for his grunge-indie band and his girlfriend. After a near overdose of heroin five years later he finally got out of that life, and buried himself university, finishing in two years, and opening his own company.

He even returned to being close friends with Emilia, despite their age differences. There were still slight remnants of his old lifestyle, his penchant for grunge music, the scar where he had pierced his eyebrow over the bathroom sink, and another on his hip where he got a tattoo removed. Five years after getting Kurt Cubain's face tattooed on his body, he realised how much of an idiot he really had been.

"I don't even remember what it looked like," Emilia laughed as they recalled the infamous tattoo scandal.

"Bad. The tattoo artist was an idiot," he informed her.

"Would you ever get another one?"

"I've been thinking about it. I'm not sure what to get though," he shrugged.

"Well I want one," she decided firmly. George raised a brow.

"And just _where_, Missy, do you want to get it?" he questioned in a teasing voice.

"I was thinking my hip, like where you got yours," she shrugged.

"When you get pregnant and it'll stretch out. You'll look like an idiot," he commented.

"Well... I guess I'll think about it," she said thoughtfully, tapping her lip. "Will you get one with me when I get it done? I'd be terrified to do it alone," she requested hopefully. He laughed, and nodded.

"Of course. We'll even get matching ones, if you'd like. Just as long as they're not butterflies or puppies or something like that."

"It's a deal. I'll get Antoinette to think of something," she decided firmly.

"And we'll never tell the parentals. Your Dad would have a heart attack if he knew," he added.

"Hmm. Didn't think of that," she agreed thoughtfully, as they pulled into the carpark. "Oh well. I'll get it in a place he'll never see," she decided.

"Just as long as it's on a bit of anatomy that I have too, because if we're going to get matching tattoos I don't want to have to have a sex change so I can get mine," he requested teasingly.

"Well ditto," she laughed, climbing out of the car. They continued ridiculous suggestions for places to permanently mark themselves as they walked into the hotel and the conversation lasted even into the restaurant, before they spotted Simone, sitting by the bar, practically in the lap of some boy who had to be twenty-five at the most.

"Mother, please. I don't want my new Daddy to be younger than myself," he sighed, stepping up to her. The boy paled and stepped back immediately, causing Simone to pout miserably.

"Why do you always have to spoil my fun?" she questioned miserably as he pressed quick kiss to the side of her cheek.

"Because I'm like that. I assume you haven't forgotten Em?" he questioned, gesturing to his partner. Simone's eyes widened eagerly.

"Oh, _darling_, you look just fabulous, as always," she gushed excitedly, pressing eager kisses to the girl's cheeks.

"And you too, Simon. How was the flight over?"

"Oh, terrible, darling. It always is. So what's new for _you_? Got a boyfriend?" she questioned in hushed, conspiratorial tones, as if her son wasn't standing two feet away from her.

"Nup, single as always," she answered with a charming smile. Simone sighed.

"I've never known you to have a boyfriend, young missy. A few dates here and there, but when are you going to find yourself a _man_?" she demanded, as George shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm not looking at the moment, but I'm sure if Ralph Fiennes wasn't busy I'd be sure to look him up," she laughed dazzlingly. Simone giggled, but it was clear she wasn't satisfied.

Dinner continued as usual. Constant questions and enquiries as to love lives, sex lives ("They are _so_ not the same thing, darling!") did not cease till both were contemplating throwing up on each other to get out of the evening.

"She's still not told me why she came all of a sudden," George declared finally, when they were both staggered out to his car several hours later. Emilia shrugged against his shoulder.

"Hmm... cos she's your Mummy," she said simply. He frowned.

"No. There has to be something else. I know there's some reason why she'd here, I just don't –" he sighed. "I guess I'll ask her on Saturday. At least we don't have to put up with her until then," he said with a bit of positivity.

"Can we just book a hotel room for tonight and crash here? I'm too tired," she requested pitifully between yawns.

"Nup. We'll be home in a few minutes," he assured her. He inwardly smiled as he helped her into the car. He loved saying 'home' when he was talking to her. Home was where they both lived, together.

With that happy bubble inside his chest, he was able to drive all the way home and get his companion into the apartment with no fuss. It gave him strength.

~ * ~

William gave a relieved sigh as he faxed off the last piece of paperwork for the night. He laughed as he turned to the couch – Eli was curled up in a tight little ball, clutching a pillow beneath her head. She looked gorgeous when she slept.

He stepped forwards and pulled the blanket that hung over the couch atop her, and pressed a small kiss to her forehead. She gave a small murmur, shifted slightly, but did not wake.

A contented smile came over his lips.

"Just one more month," he whispered quietly, smoothing a lock of dark hair back, before pulling off his shoes, and laying down beside her on the couch, falling into happy slumber.

~ * ~

"Cadence?"

"We can't name him after something musical, bub," Toni laughed.

"Uhh... Kai?" Howl offered thoughtfully, one hand gently rubbing over the curve of his wife's stomach as they lay before the fireplace, the warmth of the red flames filling the room and bathing them in a soft glow.

"Hmm. I like that. It can go in the maybe pile," she decided.

"Out of ten?" he questioned thoughtfully.

"I hate rating them," she moaned miserably.

"Well do you like it _more_ than Edouard or _less_ than Gwenaël?" he asked, with the tone of one who wanted to get things right as he scribbled down the suggestion on the sheet of paper bearing the suggested names for their child.

"Uhh. Well, I like it more than Blaise, but not as much as Aurelien," she decided finally.

"I thought we'd settled on Aurelien as a middle name?" he questioned with a slight frown. Toni rolled her eyes.

"Bleugh. Too much thinking. We'll just name him Polliwog," she decided with a laugh, lying back luxuriously and yawning. "But I _did_ like Emmanuel."

"We already decided on Emanuelle if it were a girl, remember?" he reminded her. She laughed.

"We'll decide later. Still got another two and a half months left, you know," she reminded him. He smiled softly, and rubbed his hand over her belly once more.

"Given anymore thought to how you want to do it?" he asked softly. She shrugged.

"I don't know. I mean, a C-section would be easier, but there's more risk for Polliwog," she said quietly.

"A C-section would be better for you. You're not healthy enough to go through the birth," he urged her. She nodded slowly, staring distantly into the flames. "Antoinette, I just don't want to lose you. And I don't want you to be in pain," he sighed finally. She turned to him with a soft, comforting smile.

"I know. And I'll be fine, I swear. No matter which way we do this, I'm going to be okay, Howl," she assured him gently. He mirrored her smile.

"Good. That's all I wanted to hear," he replied, giving a quick kiss to the bump of her belly and a contented smile.

In just two-and-a-half months, they would be able to hold their baby.

He couldn't wait.

~ * ~

George gently pulled the sheet up to cover her sleeping form. She had practically collapsed in bed the moment they got to the apartment. He pushed a lock of hair from her face, but resisted the urge to kiss her.

"Night, Em," he murmured softly to the darkened room before he closed the door behind him, content that his precious roommate was sleeping.

Content.

It was a word he didn't use a lot, but it seemed fitting all of a sudden.

For the first time in what felt like an age, he was finally content.

~ * ~

Frank threw back another shot, unconscious of how many he had already skulled, but he thought it was a little suspicious that the once full bottle of whisky was now half-empty.

He had to do it. He didn't want to – but pretty soon he wouldn't have an option. He had to destroy Emilia Woodhouse's life, and for once, his cunning brain was empty. He didn't know how he was going to do it, and he didn't have much time left.

"Weakness," he grunted to himself, gripping the whisky bottle. "Find. Weakness. Must have – _weakness_," he said firmly, the room spinning. The girl had everything. What could he use? Her friends? Her family? Her job? What could he do that would rip she and George apart for good?

The trouble was that everyone thought so well of her. She was so damn nice to everyone, even the stupid blonde doormat and the ridiculous blabbering woman she was so fond of, Henrietta. _God_, how he hated that woman. She just never shut up about how lovely and kind Miss Woodhouse was, he didn't want to _hear_ about the Perfect Princess.

Suddenly, it occurred to him.

With an excited little giggle, he grabbed a pen and paper to scrawl down his idea before he forgot it in a fit of drunkenness. His laugh grew louder, wilder and all the more maniacal as he continued to scribble. It was simple, petty and hitting below the belt, but if he wanted to destroy her reputation, it was the first step. If all went well, he wouldn't even _need_ another step.

Satisfied, he dropped the pen and poured himself a celebratory glass. He raised it in a mock toast to himself, before swallowing it back, and collapsing on the floor.

**A/N: Ah, day two of this twelve day journey. Thank you all for your reviews, they made me feel so happy! Next chapter is the beginning of my 'Box Hill' equivalent, this was just setting the scene for it. So please keep up the reviews, and I hope you're enjoying your breaks (if you have breaks, and if you don't, sorry :S). Much love from my side of the world!!! ^__^**


	24. Of Objectives and Obituarys

"_Son, if I died on my bedroom floor,  
Would you cry on your bedroom floor?  
And tattoo my name underneath your arm_?"

-The Middle East, 'The Darkest Side'

It was all anyone could talk about. It was exaggerated and sensationalised to the heroic story of the century within the day – there were fireworks and crashes and bangs of brilliance at every turn, it was fabulous, incredible, courageous and a bit of a stretch from the truth, but hell, it was _entertaining_. And half an hour after it happened, Emilia could predict that the story of Haley's rescue was going to get a little out of hand.

"And I started crossing the road, and then this big _car_ just came out of nowhere, headed straight for me!" Haley cried, trembling in shock, but a big grin plastered across her face as she was fussed over in George and Emilia's apartment just after the near-accident. "And I thought I was a goner. But suddenly, _suddenly_, I was knocked to the ground by this _person_, and the car skidded just out of the way. If Frank hadn't thrown me out of danger I would have been killed!" she exclaimed dramatically for what felt like the fifth time as Emilia thrust a cup of tea into her hands.

"It wasn't like that. I grabbed her and pulled her off the road so she wasn't skiddled. I didn't even know it was Haley," Frank explained sheepishly.

"Don't be modest, you saved her life, Frank," Emilia interjected. "Are you okay about everything?" she questioned, seeing that he was a little pallid.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I just feel a bit shaken up," he laughed with a small shrug and a charming grin.

"It's lucky you were there then – what brought you to this side of London?" she questioned with a slight frown.

"Hmm? Oh, I was just going to pop in here for a brief visit. I didn't know that Haley was coming home this way," he answered simply, gratefully accepting a cup of tea Emilia passed to him.

"Let me call James. You need someone to drive you home and I need to stay with Haley – you're too shaken up to go by yourself," she determined, knowing full well that she had better get him out of the apartment before George came home. They still weren't exactly 'bosom-buddies'.

"That's probably a good idea. Listen, I'll call him myself," he sighed. "Do you mind if I call in the kitchen? Only – I just think I need a bit of space," he muttered, as if ashamed. Emilia nodded, and ushered him out of the living room as Haley began again at the story of her dramatic rescue.

"You can use my phone if you'd like, it's just on the bench," she instructed. Frank laughed, and nodded.

"I'll be fine. Just make sure she's okay," he directed simply, stepping out of the room. Emilia sighed as she returned to the still shaken Haley.

It _was _pretty incredible. She shuddered to think what might have happened if Frank hadn't been there.

George returned to the apartment a few hours later, after Frank had already left, and Haley was curled up asleep in Emilia's bed. She had sprawled herself out in some sort of imitation of a Swastika over the bed, sheets tangled in her feet. Emilia would have laughed at the cute image, if it didn't mean she was out of a bed.

"I just heard. Is she alright? Apparently Frank stopped a car with his bare hand or something," George said the moment he opened the door, tossing his briefcase on the couch. Emilia immediately poured him a cup of tea.

"She's sleeping in my room. He pushed her out of the way from a moving car. Pretty impressive, don't you think?" she commented, the togs already working in her once matchmaking brain. Haley and Frank... wouldn't it be just lovely?

"Not as impressive as the story, but yeah, I guess so," he muttered slightly reluctantly, accepting the cup of tea and giving a long sigh of relief. "I tried calling you. Why didn't you pick up?" he questioned with a frown.

"I can't seem to find my phone. It's probably around here somewhere. You should have just called the landline," she objected.

"Well I thought you were in the hospital or something looking after Haley, the stories said Frank performed CPR on her or something," he shrugged simply. Emilia rolled her eyes at the silliness.

"Well, you know what this town is like – it's all Chinese Whispers," she commented with a weary sigh.

"Tired?"

"Hmm. Yes. Of everything," she declared. She had been filled for the pasty week or so with a nervous sort of aching that always came at that time of year.

The anniversary of her mother's death was fast approaching.

"I think I'm going to call a sick day tomorrow. Can we just stay home and watch old movies and not go to work together?" she asked hopefully, resting her tired head on his shoulder. He laughed.

"I have to go see my Mother for lunch tomorrow. I'm going to get an answer out of her. I'm sick of wondering why she's here," he informed her. She groaned.

"Damn. You suck."

"But I'll gladly stagger around the house with you for the first half of the day. We'll be lazy until noon," he decided. She gave a faint sort of smile.

"Good plan. Now I'm exhausted –"

"I'm buggered too."

"Well you can't steal the covers again, because Haley's got my bed and that couch is _not_ good for my back, so I'm commandeering yours," she informed him, putting her empty mug of tea in the sink and lazily pulling her hair out of its loose tie.

"I do _not_ steal the covers, and you kick in your sleep anyway," he retorted, putting down his cup of tea and throwing his jacket onto the couch. He changed into a pair of sleeping pants and an old shirt in his room whilst Emilia ducked into her own room to put on a nightgown, returning just as he collapsed atop the bed with a weary sigh. "I'm getting too old to go to work. I should just sleep all day," he yawned, lazily trying to pull the covers over himself as Emilia slid under them.

"Hmm. Me too. I'm getting too ancient. Twenty-one is _old_," she sighed.

"Yeah. That makes my thirty-three-year-old self feel _wonderful_, bub," he retorted with slight annoyance. Emilia couldn't help but laugh.

"Whatever. You're not old, just experienced," she assured him with a laugh. He would have rolled his eyes, had the not been closed. He finally managed to pull the blanket over his form, and rest his head atop the pillow.

"Good to know. Now shut up, I'm sleeping," he commanded.

"You shut up, I'm already asleep. You're interfering in my dreams."

"I'd be in there anyway, because your entire world revolved around me," he said smugly. Emilia laughed softly, but didn't respond. George, using all the remaining strength in his body, opened a single eye to peer across at her. She was fast asleep; her blonde curls (which were getting to be quite lengthy) were draped over her shoulders and the pillow, the sheets twisted around her waist, wearing a pale pink satin nightgown that was by far the most feminine thing in the room. He smiled, and closed his eyes, drifting into sleep.

He liked the fact that she didn't object when he said her entire world revolved around him.

~ * ~

George was in a _good_ mood when he woke up the next morning. Partially because it was the first good night's sleep he had gotten in a while, but mostly because of the warm, feminine form lying asleep beside him.

"Good morning, bub," he whispered, not wanting to wake her as he sat up. He glanced at the clock – it was nearly eleven o'clock – a little over an hour before he had to go meet his mother for lunch. He sat up with a sigh, wishing that he had nowhere to be – and he could stay in bed for hours, just staring over at Emilia.

Ten minutes later he dragged himself out of bed and to the shower, it wasn't until he had showered, shaved, brushed his teeth, changed and had a cup of tea before she finally woke up.

"Where you going?" she asked sleepily, rubbing her eyes as she sat up when he stepped back into the room to fetch his shoes.

"Mother awaits," he answered reluctantly, sitting on the edge of the bed as he pulled on his shoes, a piece of toast hanging out of his mouth. She shifted and leant her front against his back, sneaking her head over his shoulder to bite a fair size of the piece off. "Hey! _My _toast!" he objected in surprise.

"Nup. Mine now," she declared happily, stuffing the portion into her mouth before he could try to get it back. She gave a smug grin. "So you're leaving me all alone?" she questioned.

"Well lunch shouldn't last long, but then I was planning on going across to see Henrietta, she complained that I never see her these days, so I'm feeling pretty guilty," he shrugged.

"Ah. Are you going to be able to handle that?" Emilia asked with slight hesitation. He gave another shrug.

"So what if I see Jane? I don't care. I'll be fine, Em," he assured her.

"Well... alright. But be careful," she directed with a slight frown. He laughed, and stood up.

"I'm a big boy. I'll be fine," he promised, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head, before grabbing a jacket and leaving the bedroom.

Emilia sighed as she lay back on the bed. Haley was able to sleep through a full twenty four hours on the weekend, she knew, so it looked like she would be bored until George came home.

~ * ~

"So? You wanted to talk about something?" George questioned, plonking himself down on the chair opposite his mother's in some fancy café she had instructed him to go to. He was anticipating news of her next marriage would ensure in the next few minutes.

But for some reason, Simone didn't _look_ elated like she normally did when she told him of a new marriage. She looked... miserable, really.

"I know I should have told you the moment I knew. I've kept it from you for weeks and it wasn't right of me," she sighed slowly, to begin the conversation. George frowned.

"Mother? What are you –"

"It's about your father, George," she interrupted his questionings. She met his eyes with honestly and slight desperation.

"My father?" he repeated in surprise. "I thought you hadn't seen him since –"

"Trust me, George, the last time I saw him was your sixteenth birthday, just like you. I haven't had any contact with him for years," she assured him, lowering her hazel eyes, as if in guilt. She slipped her Prada sunglasses on. Immediately George felt a shiver run through his spine – it was what she did when she wanted to avoid showing emotion. "I got a letter a month ago from his solicitor. George, I'm sorry. I know I should have told you. There was an accident," she began slowly.

"I – Is he dead?" he questioned slowly, feeling an emotion grip him that he couldn't even name.

"There was nothing they could do. I'm sorry, son," she said quietly.

"How long have you known?" he found himself asking, as if it were the most important thing at that moment.

"About a month. I'm sorry. I should have –"

"_Yes_! You _should_ have told me! I deserve to know if my father is dead or alive!" he burst out angrily. A few people in the restaurant stared.

"George, _please_, I was going to, but when you said –"

"I don't _care_! He's my father! I'm not fragile like Antoinette, I can take the truth!"

"That man didn't even deserve to be called your father! He's not seen you since you were sixteen, he _ran out_ on us when you were eleven, he's done nothing but make your life difficult!" she objected.

"And I suppose that _you_, with the revolving door on your marital status have been a perfect angel?" he retorted sarcastically.

"Don't be childish, George," she scolded coolly. She reached for something out of her purse. "This is yours. You were his only living relative – you get everything," she declared. George stared at the white envelope in her hand, but didn't take it. "It's _yours_, George! The title, the estates, the land, the money, the boats, the cars, the planes – it's _all_ yours. After everything he did to you, you deserve it at least," she said calmly.

Slowly, George reached out to take the envelope. He stared at it in his hands.

"I always hoped you two might build bridges in the future and get over the pain. I know it's too late now, but... George, he _wanted_ you to get it all. After a lifetime of coldness, it was all he could give you," she said quietly.

"This is why you came?" he choked out finally, glancing up.

"No. I wanted to see you. You're my _baby_, I deserve to be able to see you sometimes," she explained with a slight shrug. It was the closest thing to love she had ever shown him. "You're such a good man now, George. But you had two parents who weren't very good at showing love. I don't want you to hide what you feel away like your father and I did," she continued softly. "I _know_ what you feel about Emilia Woodhouse. Sophia and I wanted nothing more than you two to be happy. It's not too late – but you have to be honest with how you feel," she urged him.

"I – I don't want this," he said finally, lowering the envelope. Simone sighed.

"George, accepting it won't make you like him. But you deserve a link with your father. You _deserve_ what's in that envelope, you deserve to be happy, you deserve to be in love, and you deserve Emilia. Please. Make Sophia and I happy and just do what you have to do," she begged quietly. He nodded.

"You know I'm going to use this to take care of you. Make sure you don't have to troll around for another husband," he laughed, wiping a stray tear away. She smiled.

"I have more than enough to take care of myself. All those divorce settlements, remember?" she reminded him with a small smile. "Use it however you want. Set up trust funds for all the grandchildren you're going to give me," she instructed. He found himself laughing.

"Thank you, Moth – Mum," he corrected himself, leaning over, and giving her a sot kiss on the side of her cheek. She gave another smile.

"Now go on, get out of here. I want you to go tell that girl how you feel so you can get started on those grandchildren," she instructed. He gave another laugh, and nodded.

"I've got somewhere else to go first, but I will, Mum. It's about time I did," he sighed, before slipping the envelope into his pocket, and pulling on his jacket.

"Good luck," she wished him lovingly as he departed the restaurant with purpose in his heart. But there was also sorrow.

He suddenly felt very empty. He'd never had much to do with his father – but it was like there was suddenly a huge part of him missing. A place that he didn't even know he _had_ was now empty.

He missed his Dad. It didn't hurt to admit it – not anymore. He really, truly did _miss_ him.

He parked outside of the apartment building that Henrietta, her grandmother and niece were living in, all the while running through what would hopefully ensure when he returned home. He didn't want to end up dying with nothing in his life like his father – he wanted to make the leap and just tell Emilia how he felt. If she said she didn't feel the same way, they would work through it and remain friends. He knew he wouldn't lose her.

"Oh! _George_! It's so _wonderful_ to see you, my dear. It's been so _long_, it really has, you know. So _very_ long," Henrietta gushed excitedly as he turned up on her doorstep. He smiled politely.

"I know, Henny. I'm sorry about that, I've been quite busy lately," he explained. Henrietta didn't seem to mind as she ushered him into the room.

"It's simply _splendid _to see you. Now someone can keep Jane company whilst I finish fixing Grand-Mother's lunch! She's been sitting alone by that piano all day, you know," she informed him. Not even spending time with Jane could dampen George's purpose – he was firm in his resolve.

"Of course, Henny. I'll wait here," he said calmly as she left him in the sitting room. He saw Jane sitting silently before the piano, her back turned to him. She started when she heard his voice, and turned, just as Henrietta left them.

"You have a hell of a lot of nerve, turning up here," she snapped immediately. George sighed. It was the first time they had been alone since _the fight_. The fight that ended their relationship for good.

"I'm just here to see your Aunt, Jane. I don't want to cause any trouble," he assured her calmly.

"Cause any trouble? Am I to assume then, that you _didn't_ tell her to say all those things?" she questioned coolly. George frowned.

"Who and _what_ are you talking about?"

"Hmm. Clearly you _didn't_, and she was just being a bitch by herself," Jane replied pointedly.

"What on _earth_ are you –"

"Your little girlfriend has spent the past twenty-four hours sending me a vicious text message every ten minutes. I thought you could control your little Lolita," she snapped angrily.

"When are you going to get over your paranoia about Emilia? She's done nothing to hurt you!" he retorted coolly, gritting his teeth together in frustration.

"'_I'll scratch your fucking eyes out if you try to hurt him again, you little bitch'_," Jane read out diligently from the screen of her phone. "'_You're a stupid, fat whore and he doesn't care about you. Go back to America, no one wants you here_'," she continued. "'_You're almost as boring as your ridiculous Aunt, and that's saying something'_," she added, her tone growing colder.

"What the hell are you -" he began as he stepped forwards, and grabbed the phone from Jane's hand. He glanced at the number.

It was Emilia's.

He read through some of the text messages hastily. They were all horrible. Rude, cruel, bitchy and in some cases violent – he suddenly felt his heart drop.

"I'll take care of this," he decided calmly, passing Jane back the phone.

"Everything that girl does is aimed to hurt me, George. I can't believe you could be taken in by a pretty face like that. She's sick," she snapped.

"Jane, I _said_ I would take care of it! Just drop it – alright? Delete the messages. I'm going to talk to Emilia," he decided firmly, turning heel.

"Oh, George? Are you leaving already?" Henrietta questioned in surprise from the hallway.

"Sorry about that, Henny," he replied, forcing a polite smile. "I just remembered that I have an appointment I need to be at. I'll come back again soon," he assured her, before slipping out of the apartment.

He needed to talk to Emilia.

**A/N: I'm contemplating adding another chapter in. I'm not sure... hmmm.... Hope you're enjoying this so far!**


	25. Of Debates and Departures

"_I've seen you cry, I've seen you smile, I've watched you sleeping for a while,  
I'd be the father of your child, I'd spend a lifetime with you  
I know your fears and you know mine, we've had our doubts but now we're fine,  
And I love you, I swear that's true, I cannot live without you  
Goodbye my lover, goodbye my friend, you have been the one,  
You have been the one for me,"_

-James Blunt, 'Goodbye my Lover'

"Good morning, Miss Woodhouse," Haley greeted chirpily when she finally awoke.

"Good afternoon, Hales," Emilia laughed, glancing up from her book.

"Oh, is it afternoon already? I must have slept all day," she sighed dreamily, glancing up at the clock. "Is George home?" she questioned, almost hopefully.

"No, he's gone to meet his mother for lunch. He should be back soon though," she assured her, folding the corner of the page in her book (George always yelled at her for doing it, but she was too lazy to find a bookmark) and placing it on the coffee table as Haley sat down beside her.

"I think I'm in love again, Miss Woodhouse," Haley sighed, twirling the tips of her blonde hair between spindly fingers.

"Oh really? So who's the lucky guy?" she questioned eagerly, but Emilia was quite certain she knew already – who else could it be but Frank Churchill? "Actually, no. You don't need to tell me. I might start playing matchmaker again," she corrected herself with determination. Haley giggled.

"But I think you already know who it is," she retorted. Emilia laughed.

"Well, maybe I do. But that doesn't matter! I mean, it's understandable of course, after all he's done for you," she pointed out eagerly.

"Oh, I know! He's just been so wonderful! He's so sweet, really. I can't imagine a better person in the world. I know we're different, but it doesn't matter – I still think he's perfect for me!" she said happily, her eyes shining with excitement.

"I agree. He's caring and kind, and that's what you need," Emilia insisted. Haley and Frank – it would be so perfect!

"I should probably go back to your – I mean, _my_ apartment now," Haley sighed. "But Miss Woodhouse, _thank _you. It's so good to know I have your blessing!" she said happily.

"Of course you do. Now go on, and good luck!" she urged her with a ridiculously large grin.

Haley practically floated out the door as Emilia picked up her book once more.

So maybe playing matchmaker wasn't _so_ bad at all!

~ * ~

George was practically trembling with anger. He could hardly believe it.

How could Emilia be so... selfish? Rude? Horrible? He knew she'd never really liked Jane – but to say such terrible things to her? It was practically abuse! And to insult Henrietta too? How _could_ she?

"I need to speak with you," he practically hissed the moment he stepped into their apartment. She looked up from the book on her lap and the cup of tea in her hand.

"Oh, hey. Haley just went back to her apartment, I think she's going to sleep some more. She's much better though," she informed him. He nodded tersely, throwing his jacket down on the couch, as was his practise. He refused to meet her eyes. "Uhh, George? Are you okay?" she questioned slowly, after noting that he hadn't responded.

"How could you – your behaviour certainly needs some work, Emilia," he began, attempting to keep his tone cool, but he was radiating anger from the inside out.

"Sorry?"

"How could you be such a – a _bitch_?" he questioned furiously. Emilia's eyes widened in surprise. "How could you be so heartless? So – so _unfeeling_? And not only to Jane, but to Henrietta? After all the attention that woman has given you over the years, and Jane has never tried to hurt you! I can't _believe_ you!" he exclaimed angrily. Emilia frowned in surprise.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the horrible text messages you sent to Jane! What has she ever done to _you_? Your behaviour has been disgusting over the past few months, and I intend on it stopping _now_," he snapped.

"First of all, _what the fuck are you going on about_, and second, how _dare_ you?" she questioned angrily.

"I _saw_ them, Emilia! I saw the damn text messages, I saw your number on the screen, I _know_ it was you – so stop pretending you don't know what I'm talking about!" he commanded. "You could at least try to regain a _shred_ of decency and actually acknowledge that you've done wrong, but clearly it's too much to expect," he snapped bitterly.

Emilia looked like she was about to object, but her jaw fell, and she lowered her eyes.

"I can't believe how selfish you've become. Everything has to revolve around _you_. God, Emilia, I wish you could see yourself! See what kind of girl you are these days!" he cried, looking away, as if in disgust.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"Is that all you have to say? Is that all you can do? Sorry isn't damn well good enough!" he practically roared.

"Well it's all I have!" she retorted with pale eyes full of tears. "I'm sorry! I don't want to hurt anyone!" she pleaded.

"Well you _have_. You've hurt Jane, and you – you hurt _me_," he confessed bitterly, turning his head away.

"I'd never hurt you, George! You're too important to me, you _know_ that!" she practically wept, rising from her place on the settee.

"I can't – I have to get out of here," he muttered beneath his breath, picking up his jacket once more. The envelope crinkled in his pocket. Suddenly the full realisation of the day hit him – in the space of a few hours he had lost two illusions. His father, and the woman he loved. The bubble was popped, and his once happy life was turned upside down.

"George, please don't go. I don't want to fight," she objected. "I admit it. I was wrong! What do you want now? It's not fair that you're doing this!" she cried.

"Do _not_ act like a _child_ around me, Emilia Woodhouse!" he shouted in return. "You're nothing more than a snivelling little brat to me right now – just – just _grow up_!" he commanded furiously, storming out of the apartment.

"I could say the same thing to you!" she called down the hall. He gave no response.

Emilia cried out in anger and confusion as she struck the wall as hard as she could.

It didn't make even a single dent.

~ * ~

"And you've been taking your vitamins, have you, dear?"

"Yes Daddy."

"Good. You must always do as Doctor Penn says. He's a genius. You spend so much time in your room, my dear. I hope you're getting plenty of rest."

"Yes, Daddy."

"You look a little pale, my dear. Have you been taking your vitamins?" Henry Woodhouse questioned with a slight frown. Emilia sighed.

"Yes, Daddy," she answered quietly. She had retreated to her father's house after her argument with George, and after a quick trip to Antoinette to try and get some perspective.

"There's not much I can say, babe. I don't know either," Toni had shrugged tiredly, shifting with the awkward bulge of her stomach restricting her.

She didn't feel like talking to Eli, she didn't feel like talking to anyone. She only figured that perhaps Toni, who knew George better than many of her other friends, would be able to help her.

But of course, Toni couldn't, and she ended up at her father's house, just wishing she could forget about the entire incident.

"Mister Woodhouse, there's someone here to see you, sir," Emily, the maid announced, popping her head into the drawing room where they sat after an early dinner. Emilia tucked her legs beneath the skirt of her simple white summer dress. She knew it was too cold to wear at that time of the year, but it was the first thing she could grab from her wardrobe, and she was too upset to feel the chill.

"Oh, how lovely. Please sent them in, Emily," he requested excitedly, turning to his daughter, who offered him a small smile.

"Sorry about the hour, Henry, I only wanted to –" began a familiar voice, before it suddenly stopped. Emilia felt as if someone had squeezed her heart together with their bare hands when she saw George walk into the room. His eyes briefly met hers, before they returned to her father, not a shred of emotion. "I only wanted to say goodbye," he began again, keeping his voice calm and measured.

"Goodbye?" Emilia exclaimed in surprise. George didn't shift his eyes.

"But where are you going, my boy?" frowned Henry.

"Switzerland. I have business there that I can't detain," he answered in a clipped tone.

"What kind of business?" Emilia questioned anxiously. His gaze did not flicker to her.

"Family matters. To do with my father's estate," was his simple response.

"Emilia? Did you know about this?" Henry asked his daughter in surprise.

"No, Daddy, I didn't," she said truthfully. George lowered his eyes to the floor and said nothing.

"Well you _must_ get a new phone so you can contact him Emilia, dear," Henry said firmly. George's eyes flickered upwards.

"What?"

"Oh, didn't you know, George? Emilia's phone is missing. It's been gone since yesterday. I've tried calling it, thinking we might hear it ring, but nothing! It's simply _disappeared_!" he explained dramatically. George finally looked at Emilia, who was staring at her hands. "She's terribly worried someone might have stolen it. In this day and age, she still has all the information stored, but she doesn't know _what _who stole it might get up to, and now she has to go out and buy a new one! What an awful waste," he sighed, shaking his head and tutting.

"Daddy, I don't think George wants to hear about my phone," she said quietly.

"Well perhaps George has seen it? It's an iphone, you know. One of the new ones. It can do _all_ sorts of marvellous things. But she shall have to buy a new one now, hopefully you can keep your old number, my dear," he said with optimism.

"When did it go missing?" George asked slowly.

"Oh, yesterday morning, wasn't it, my dear? That's when you said you couldn't find it. After all that trouble with that Smith girl and the Churchill boy – had a bit of an accident, they did – she simply couldn't find it anymore! She came right over to see if she'd left it here, but it had disappeared!" Henry related. "My, George, you look so very pale. Would you like to sit down?" he questioned with concern.

"N – No, Henry. I think it best I just go. I'll – I'll see you later, Henry, Emilia," he muttered, turning heel, and leaving the room.

Emilia found herself rushing up from her chair before she knew what she was doing.

"Please, George. It doesn't have to be like this," she pleaded, stopping him in the hall. He halted his march to the door.

"Emilia – please, _don't_," he requested almost brokenly. "J – Just don't," he begged, once more not meeting her eyes.

"You didn't listen when I told you the truth. What else could I do? I'm sorry I lied, George. I should have just been honest," she tried to object. He shook his head firmly.

"No, I said _no_. I can't – I have to go," he practically breathed, wrenching the door open and slamming it shut behind him. Emilia gave a pathetic sob and clumsily wiped her eyes with the palm of her hand.

By the time she had decided to go after him, he was already gone.

~ * ~

"You're doing the wrong thing."

George didn't turn around – he knew full well who it was, and why they were standing in his bedroom as he frantically packed his belongings. He didn't question how he knew what was going on – he never did with Howl.

"I don't give a _damn _Howl – I'll do what I fucking-well like," he snapped angrily, tossing a few shirts into his open suitcase.

"You _know_ she would never say any of that stuff – she's been set up, George. You can't punish her for it," he said as calmly as he could, stepping further into the room.

"Of _course_ I know it's a damn set up, do you think I'm an idiot?" he questioned pointedly, glaring at his friend from behind his shoulder, before turning back to his wardrobe and throwing more clothing from the drawers to his suitcase. He didn't feel much like mentioning that an hour ago he _didn't_ know it was a set up, a few hours ago he was ready to believe that she had said those horrible things to be spiteful and cruel.

"Then why are you leaving her?"

"Because. I need to be somewhere else right now, and it's perfectly clear I'm not needed here. Not after I just made the biggest idiot out of myself imaginable," he snapped. Howl sighed.

"George, you know that's not –"

"She loves Frank, Howl!" George roared finally, his eyes filled with desperation, anger and pain. "She loves Frank and I'm not going to get in the way of them being happy together. I owe her that damn much," he continued bitterly.

"You don't know that. You don't know for certain if it's how she feels," Howl tried to rationalise, but George interrupted him with a bitter scoff.

"That's bullshit. It's pretty clear. I can't stand the guy – I can't stand _her _being with _him_, so I have to leave, Howl. I _have_ to go," he said with as much control as he could, but it was clear he was falling apart at the seams.

"George, there's still hope. You just have to do something, you've sat around in misery for nearly eight years, it's time you told her the truth," he urged him. George angrily turned back to the wardrobe, and pulled a drawer out with force, emptying its contents in his suitcase.

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about. You say you know what it's like to want someone you can't have – well you _got_ Antoinette, even though she was off limits. You _got_ your happy ending, Howl, but I'm not getting mine," he threw back angrily.

"You can't just expect it to fall into your lap, George! You have to make your happy ending yourself!" he argued firmly. "Call her. Speak to her. _Tell_ her, you have nothing to lose," he urged him. George paused his frantic packing.

"And do you _really_ think they'll be anything to _gain_?"

"Then you have to just be happy for her. Smile and be the friend she needs," Howl reasoned.

"I can't. When I pick up the phone or when I see her I won't be able to lie. I won't be able to pretend I'm happy," he confessed brokenly.

"If you do, you get to keep Emilia," Howl said finally, after a long, silent pause enveloped them.

"You can't live in a lie, and you can't love the liars in it..." George murmured very quietly, as if to himself.

"What?"

"It's just – it's just something someone said to be once. But it's true," he shrugged. "I can't, Howl. I just – I _can't_ anymore," he stammered out, practically trembling with emotion. Howl sighed.

"Well what do you want to say to her? What do you _want _to tell her?" he asked gently.

"I want to grab her and hold her as closely as I can. I want to scream 'don't leave me. Don't leave me like this. Don't leave me in this hell where I can't have you'," he answered quietly. "I – I want to shake her and shout at her and hurt her. I want to tear apart her perfect life so she gains even the _slightest_ fraction of understanding of what I'm going through," he continued bitterly, a stray tear falling down his cheek as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "I want her to be devastated so I know that I'm not the only one who's been devastated by this," he said finally.

"I understand that feeling. But it won't help," Howl said finally. George slowly returned to his packing, with much less force, and much more pathetic misery.

"I don't know how I'm going to be able to do it, Howl," he murmured quietly. "Everything reminds me of her. Everything. I'm never going to be able to stop thinking about her," he continued.

"It'll get easier."

"No. It won't," he sniffled, his voice deep and rasping with contained emotion. "Everything I see is just a reminder that she exist, but she's not _mine_."

"This doesn't have to be it," Howl said slowly, after a long silence filled with George's packing. He clipped the suitcase closed.

"Yes. It does."

Howl sighed.

"Listen. Go talk to Jane. She might know who really sent those messages. Emilia deserves the right to know who's trying to destroy her life," he reasoned.

"A – After all I've done to Jane, and now _Emilia_, there's no place for me to be talking to either of them anymore, Howl!" George threw back.

"Jane was the one that broke your heart, George, not the other way around. Don't glorify her, not after what she did to you," he urged him.

"You want to know why Jane and I broke up, Howl? It's not because she broke my heart – _I _broke _hers_!" he roared angrily. "_I'm_ the one that did wrong in that relationship! It's _my_ fault_, _Jane was nothing but good to me and I betrayed her! I betrayed her because I loved Emilia too much to go through with the marriage!" he cried. Howl looked genuinely shocked. "She knew. She found out and she left because she _knew_ I was going to abandon her! If Jane wants to destroy me then she has that right! And in her mind, it's Emilia's fault that we broke up!" he continued bitterly.

"George, if Jane is behind this –"

"I don't _care_ who is. Their goal was to rip Emilia and I apart and they've _done it_, I don't care anymore! I just have to – I have to get _out_!" he cried.

"George, don't do this to her. Emilia _needs_ you right now," Howl tried to plead.

"No. I may come back one day – I don't know. I just don't know anymore," he sighed, turning to his friend. Howl looked devastated. "You've been a good friend to me. But your life is perfect now – you don't need me. I think I still need _you_, but – but I want to bury myself away somewhere where I don't need anyone. I'm sorry it's ended up like this," he said weakly. Howl nodded, and gave a forced, bitter laugh.

"That's okay. This isn't the end. You won't be able to stay away," he said firmly. George smiled, and nodded, even though he knew it would take quite a lot to get him to return to England. He had to get away as fast as he could.

"Goodbye, old friend," he said finally, clapping Howl on the back.

"Not goodbye. I'll see you soon," he replied with a nod, before turning heel and leaving the room.

George sighed. Howl's optimism was rare, but unfounded.

He didn't predict coming back any time soon.

~ * ~

George jabbed the doorbell with impressive force. The door was opened a moment later, with just the man he wanted to see standing in the doorway.

"Huh? George? What are you doing here?" Frank questioned in surprise.

"I need a word," he snapped, practically dragging him out into the hall.

"What's with the haste? In a rush to be somewhere?"

"No time to be funny. I have just one thing to say to you, Churchill, so you had better listen," he snapped furiously, grabbing the boy by the scruff of the shirt and pressing him up against the wall. "If you hurt her, if you _ever_ even cause her the _slightest_ amount of pain, I will make your life not worth living," he threatened darkly. Frank tried to give a casual laugh, but it came out as a squeak as George tightened his grip on him.

"Surely there's a – a police force out there to – to stop you from d – doing that," he gasped out pitifully.

"There's no police force that will stop me from destroying you, Frank Churchill. I would move heaven and earth to keep her happy, and if _you_ are the pitiful piece of shit she's decided to choose, then I'll respect that," he snapped. "But I will _never_ forget that you've taken her from me. So consider yourself lucky to be alive at this very moment – because I have nothing else to live for in my life than Emilia, and if losing my life is what's necessary to keep her safe, then I won't hesitate for even a second," he finished coolly. "Got it?"

"Yeah. Got it," he croaked out weakly.

"Good. Now don't you _dare_ forget this little chat, Churchill," he said darkly, releasing his hold. Frank crumpled on the floor, and was promptly spat on. "Have a good one, Frank," he concluded sarcastically, before turning heel, and storming out without another word.

~ * ~

When Emilia returned to the apartment she knew he was gone. She didn't even have to flick on the lights to know he was gone. When you love someone, you just know. It's like a sense...

She could sense the lack of something incredibly important in her life. In her heart. She could sense the emptiness

She sat on the settee for a while, staring at nothingness and wishing that the apartment would just implode on itself and take her with it, she felt tears slide down her cheeks but she made no sounds of weeping, she just sat in silence.

"Miss Woodhouse? Miss Woodhouse? Are you here?" came a questioning voice as Haley let herself into the apartment. She flicked on the lights and stared around. It was dark outside, the lights of the city they were on the edge of glimmering like thousands of coloured stars. "M – Miss Woodhouse? Where's George?" she asked gently, clearly perturbed by the image of her employer sitting so quietly on the settee, with an expression of such loss.

"I suppose he'd probably be over France by now," she answered, her voice raw and timid from the spent tears.

"What?"

"He's gone. He's going to Switzerland."

"W – When will he be back?"

"I don't know," she shrugged honestly.

"But – but I didn't even get to tell him how I feel!" she exclaimed miserably. Emilia raised her eyes, suddenly feeling a sense of dread fill her.

"Wh – What do you mean?" she questioned with as much steadiness as she could muster, but she knew it wasn't going to be enough.

"Well after you were so positive when we spoke I thought that maybe... maybe I should tell George how I feel. If _you_ can accept our love, then _he_ should be able to," she shrugged.

"Oh, Haley, I – I thought you meant _Frank_. I thought you meant you loved _Frank_," she muttered with deep mortification, burying her head in her hands. She groaned. Things were only getting worse.

"Frank? Well, he's _nice_, but _certainly_ not as nice as George!" she exclaimed. "D – Does that mean that you didn't mean what you said?" she questioned with a pronounced frown. Emilia sighed.

"Haley, I wouldn't have been so encouraging if I had known you meant George," she said honestly. Haley's eyes instantly welled with tears.

"You – You think you know _everything_. You think that you're in charge of everyone and everything, a – and that people should do what you say all the time," she stammered out forcefully. "But you're _wrong_! And I was stupid to take advice from someone who's so miserable! I should have known you were just going to hurt me! All you want is everyone to love you, and you don't want to share their love! It's not _fair_, Miss Woodhouse, it's not _fair!_" she cried angrily.

"I'm sorry, Haley. I'm so sorry," she practically wept.

"Well I don't care! I love George, and I _do_ think he loves me too! So I – I don't need your advice anymore! No one _wants_ your help, Miss Woodhouse, so stop _giving_ it!" she finished angrily, before storming out of the apartment.

Emilia gave a weak sob as she curled up in the couch.

When you love someone, you always know when they're gone.

But you'll never know when they're coming back.

Her instincts said never.

**A/N: Sigh. I'm such a miserable little chappette. My proprensity for angst is almost an obsession! Quick, someone, tell me a joke or I might explode with teenage misery!**


	26. Of Auditions and Ambitions

Eli felt a vague nervous energy fill her as she took her seat outside the audition room. She was second up – the second to scrawl her name on the audition sheet.

"Do you work here?" frowned Heidi, the second soprano.

"I've been in the company for three years. I was your understudy for six months," she reminded her. Heidi knit her blonde eyebrows together.

"Really? I don't remember you. Are you auditioning?" she questioned with a frown. Eli wanted to say something like '_obviously_, as I'm in the auditioning line', but resisted the urge.

"Yep."

"Hmm. Are you serious?" she laughed. "I mean – you're just a kid. They don't give lead roles to babies," she explained, as if to be polite when she noted Eli's frown.

"I'm not a kid, and yeah, I'm serious," she said calmly. Heidi giggled.

"Well, alright, whatever you say. Is that your boyfriend?" she questioned, glancing over to Will, who was speaking to Howl on the other side of the room.

"Fiancé," she corrected. The Heidi's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"You're _engaged_?"

"The wedding is in just a week," she said calmly, glancing over the sheet music in her hand for Philippe Rombi's _Ave Maria_ arrangement.

"That your Dad?"

"Yep."

"Your sister?" she continued, when Antoinette emerged from the bathroom. Her belly was getting to be pretty big, but ironically, when you glimpsed her from behind, she didn't even look pregnant.

"Mum."

"She looks really young to be your mother," Heidi pointed out with a frown.

"She's my adopted mother."

"Hmm. Cute," she replied, wrinkling her nose slightly. "Listen, good luck and everything, but don't expect to get the lead. They don't give lead positions to kids your age. Your not experienced enough," she advised. "You might get second soprano, if you're _really_ good. But there are a lot of _really_ good singers in this line," she added.

"I'm sure I'll be fine," Eli defended calmly. Heidi sighed.

"Alright, I was just trying to save you some heartache. You're going down," she said finally, turning to her own sheets.

Eli opened her mouth to object, but no words came out. She grit her teeth in frustration.

"Hey. How are you feeling?" Will asked, stepping up to her. Heidi took him in appreciatively, but he sent her a cool glare.

"Good. How's Toni?"

"She's fine, but Polliwog seems to think kicking her internal organs is pretty fun," he shrugged, giving her a comforting smile. "So, remember your breathing. You know this song backwards, you're going to be fine," he assured her. She nodded.

"I'm not worried. Have you heard from Emilia?" she questioned in response.

"Not really. I just got the same response, she's busy," he answered simply. Eli nodded.

"I just wish she'd let someone talk to her. I mean, I _know_ she's hurting right now, but she has friends and family," she sighed.

"Yeah, but George was way more important to her than just a friend or a family member. She's known him her whole life. He's a part of her," he replied. "I don't expect her to feel any better until he comes back. She's completely lost without him," he commented. Eli gave a sad nod of comprehension.

"But the thing is that she's not even being honest about it. They said this is the same thing she did when her Mum died, she just pretended it wasn't effecting her. She's going to break down," she objected.

"She'll probably be better when we go up to Pemberley. Mrs Reynolds called the other day, she said there was snow on the fields last night, so maybe a change of scenery will cheer her up," he suggested. Eli nodded once more.

"I just hope George comes back in time for our wedding," she said quietly.

"Eli, I don't think he will. We'll have to celebrate without him," he sighed. She took a deep, cleansing breath.

"We can get by. I just wish it weren't so complicated," she said finally. Will gave a small, wistful smile.

"That would be nice, but I don't think it's possible. Complication seems to be everyone's middle name around here," he laughed. Eli immediately felt a little better, but she knew it probably wasn't going to be enough.

"Will..." she began softly. He noted her tone and sat down on the empty chair beside her. She turned her head to face him, blocking Heidi out of the conversation. "Will, what happens if I _do_ get the part? Do I stay here, or do I go to Pemberley?" she asked quietly. Will frowned.

"Uhh... I'm not sure," he confessed. "We'll work it out. Somehow," he assured her comfortingly. She gave a weak smile, and nodded, not feeling a single bit more comforted than before she had asked the question.

~ * ~

After the audition (which Eli felt she went quite well in, but couldn't be certain), packing immediately commenced for Pemberley. They were all to travel up the next day to spend the week before Christmas together before the wedding on Christmas Eve. On Boxing Day night Eli and Darcy would drive to the airport to take their Honeymoon in Sydney, Australia, and guests would go home whenever they pleased.

It had turned into quite an intimate affair. Emilia, Antoinette and Howl would be in attendance obviously, as well as Henry, Bella and Jon, Richard, Char, Taylor and James (and then of course Frank), Henrietta and Jane, Nellie, Marianne and Christopher. It was precisely as desired, a _small_ wedding was all they wanted.

"How are you feeling?" Nellie questioned Emilia as she pulled out outside the apartment building the Dashwoods were living in to pick the girls up on the way to Pemberley.

"I'm absolutely fine. You don't have to worry about me," she said firmly, waving off her friend's concern. Ever since George left, everyone around her had been constantly questioning after her well-being and health. She didn't think she could take another second of it. "Are you guys ready?" she asked, as Marianne came out the door, a large suitcase clunking behind her. She looked terrible.

But of course Emilia had heard whispers of what had happened to poor Marianne. Danny, her 'one true love' had been caught in London between the sheets of some rich heiress. He'd completely betrayed her for money and sex.

As a result, Marianne had retreated within herself. She was normally a very cheerful and outgoing girl, but since she returned from London her skin had turned pale, her blue eyes dulled and her blonde hair sat limply in a plain bun atop her head. She _looked_ how Emilia _felt_.

Completely and utterly hopeless.

"I'm ready. Let's just go," Marianne muttered, popping her suitcase into the boot of Emilia's car. Nellie said nothing but shot a concerned look to her sister as she climbed into the backseat, refusing to say another word. Nellie sighed and put her own suitcase in the boot, before slipping into the passenger's seat. Emilia caught a glimpse of Marianne in the rear view mirror – she had ipod headphones in, her forehead pressed against the window, a single tear slipping down one cheek.

It was certainly the lonely hearts club car as they drove up to Derbyshire.

~ * ~

As the majority of their friends lived in the middle of London and had no need for a car, certain things had to be arranged in terms of transportation. Howl, Toni, Eli and Darcy were all to travel up together, as were Taylor, James, Frank, Jane and Henrietta. Luckily, however, Richard and Char, Bella, Jon and the boys, and Christopher all had their own cars, as they were certain individuals who probably wouldn't survive a long car trip together.

"Jason."

"No way."

"Isaac."

"I like Christ Isaak too much. I'm not humming 'Wicked Game' whenever this kid speaks."

"Edward."

"You _do_ realise that every single Twilight fan out there will have named their child that?"

"You're right. Harry Potter it is then."

Toni groaned wearily as she reclined back in the car on the way to Pemberley. Howl sent her a comforting smile from the driver's seat.

"Eli, if I said we'd already picked the name would you stop suggesting things?" he questioned, glancing into the rear view mirror, where Eli and Will sat in the back seat.

"Have you?"

"Well, not really... but we've made attempts," he offered sheepishly in retort. Eli gave a smug grin.

"Well, until you've decided for good, I'm determined to offer as many suggestions as possible," she decided firmly.

"Babe?"

"Yeah?"

"Please go to sleep," Will requested politely. Eli rolled her dark eyes and poked him in the belly.

"You're mean."

"And you're noisy," he objected teasingly.

"Well – your face."

"I love it when she makes intelligent, witty comments," he said sarcastically.

"Ah, young William, take note – do _not_ tease your fiancée so close to the wedding. Or your wife if she's pregnant and hormonal," Howl advised from the front seat, glancing to his own wife. William nodded.

"Duly noted. Woman, I shall not tease you when you're hormonal," he promised to Eli, who rolled her eyes for the second time in that car trip.

"You've been spending too much time around Nada. You're becoming funny," she sighed sadly, adjusting her seating so she was leaning with her back against William's arm. "Wake me when we get there," she requested, popping her headphones on and turning on her ipod.

"Who votes for leaving her in the car when we arrive?" Toni suggested.

"Heard that."

"Damn. Oh well, now we'll have to think of something different," she sighed, shifting uncomfortably in the car seat. "I hate cars. I hate driving. I hate sitting in cars when I'm fat," she moaned miserably.

"You are _not_ fat, you're pregnant. There's a bit of a distinction there," Howl assured her, with the tone of one who had been repeating the same thing over and over for the past seven and a half months.

"Which is hubby language for 'good _Lord_ woman, you're an elephant'," she retorted, drumming her fingers atop the large bulge of her stomach, which was covered in one of the many comical maternity shirts she had been given. The one she was currently wearing had large letters reading '_THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU PARTY NAKED'_ across the bust, with a rather obvious arrow pointing to her belly.

"William, is Antoinette fat?" Howl questioned after sighing.

"_She_ isn't, but her stomach is getting a bit rounder by the minute," he answered simply.

"I really hope that if you and Eli have kids one day, you use that line on her, and she hits you over the head with a frying pan," Howl muttered.

"He's _so_ not getting a Christmas present from me," Toni declared, glaring over her shoulder at Will, who was trying to hide his snigger.

"Sorry, Mrs Llewellyn, I shan't tease you again," he swore. Toni groaned in frustration.

"How many times do I have to tell you? You're only _one year_ younger than I am! Not even! Only ten months!" she snapped.

"Sweetheart, he's only teasing. Just lye back and try to get some rest," Howl urged his wife.

"Bah. I'm not tired," she decided firmly. Howl laughed.

"Cariad, _you_ might be feeling fine, but just try and rest a little for Polliwog," he requested. Toni sighed, and readjusted her seat, lying back and turning her head to the window, allowing her to slip off into thoughts.

~ * ~

"Can you come tonight?" Howl muttered beneath his breath, his voice practically a whisper.

"Yeah. But I need to be home by ten. That's when Mère said she'd call," she replied in a tone just as hushed. She raised her eyes cautiously to glance down the hallway, just to make sure no one was coming.

"Are you sure you can't stay the night?" he asked with a slight frustrated sigh.

"You _know_ I want to, but she doesn't approve of me going on 'sleepovers' so often, and not when she's away. But at least we get to be together every night till she gets back, even if it's only for a few hours," she replied with a comforting smile. Howl nodded, but with a slight frown. "Don't worry. I'll be graduating soon, and then we won't have to sneak around," she added.

"It's still another two months to wait until I can wake up with you next to me again. I'm sick of you having to leave so early every night," he muttered, one hand gently resting on her waist. Toni's heart fluttered slightly to know that he missed her just as much as she missed him. They hardly ever got to spend time together; they had been together for eight months yet in some ways they had the same amount of contact as when they were still in the realm of student and teacher.

"I guess I could just stay. I'll tell her I was in the shower and didn't hear the phone," she sighed finally.

"Cariad, I know I seem so pushy... I just – I'm sorry. Don't worry about it, you can leave whenever you need to," he replied guiltily. Toni smiled comfortingly.

"No. I _want_ to stay. And just think, in a few months school will be over, and we won't have to lie anymore," she reminded him optimistically. Howl felt a smile tug at his own lips.

"Admittedly I'm very much looking forward to it," he confessed slightly sheepishly.

"Well you had _better_, I'd be pretty offended if you weren't," she laughed.

"We'd have to tell your mother though. She'd have to know," he reminded her slowly, with slight hesitation. It was a topic Toni didn't like discussing.

"I know. We will. Just not yet," she assured him. It was her mantra – he had heard that repeated several times, but 'later' kept on becoming later and later.

"Well she'd be bound to find out when we move in together, you know," he pointed out.

"I _know_, but... Howl, she'll need time. It's not something I can just spring on her. She's _very_ old fashioned," she objected.

"I understand. It's just... a bit difficult for me," he sighed, giving her a weak smile and a shrug. "I'm far too fond of you. That's the trouble. You're much too lovely for me to keep my patience," he teased. Toni found herself laughing.

"Then come over. _You_ stay the night. We'll have the whole house to ourselves, and we won't have to worry about Mère finding out – she won't be back for another two days," she offered, taking a risk as she reached for his hand. She gently squeezed.

"Are you sure? It's risky," he muttered with a slight frown. She smiled gently.

"I'm certain."

Howl allowed himself a small grin as he nodded.

"Alright then, I'll come. I'm interested in seeing where you live," he smiled. Just then the bell rang for next class. Before their chance was gone, Howl quickly leant forwards and pressed a hasty kiss to Toni's lips. "Go. Quick, and I'll see you tonight," he hissed, releasing her. Toni slipped out of the hallway and into the hall, becoming almost invisible in the crowd of students, but never invisible to Howl.

In the last second before she disappeared, she turned her head to mouth '_I love you_', her eyes shining with sincerity. Howl's breath caught before he could respond. Every time she said it he felt the same.

Doubtful, but still... so perfectly wonderful at the same time.

He smiled softly as he closed the door to his classroom.

He was happy.

~ * ~

"Should we wake them?" Will asked hesitatingly when the car finally pulled into the Pemberley drive. The two females were fast asleep.

"Depends if you like grumpy women. If you do, then go ahead, be my guest," Howl replied, glancing over to his wife. "She'll probably wake up in another two minutes anyway – Polliwog seems to think kicking her as hard as he possibly can every ten minutes is the most enjoyable game ever invented," he added thoughtfully.

"Well _I'm_ at a bit of a loss. See, _she's_ not got a small child inside her willing to kick her awake at appropriate moments," Will pointed out.

"Thank God for that. We might have had to speed this wedding up," he retorted. "No, we'd best get the things out of the car. When Antoinette wakes up she'll probably wake Eli too, women are slightly more agreeable when other women are the ones waking them up. They enjoy blaming _us_ for things a little too much," he explained, climbing out of the driver's seat.

"So we just have to wait?" Will questioned doubtfully.

"We could, but if you're impatient –" he offered, before slamming the driver's side door with an almighty crash. Antoinette and Eli both jumped in surprise, awaking instantly.  
"Oh, _so_ sorry girls, I didn't mean to wake you," Howl exclaimed in a falsely apologetic tone.

"You _bastard_," Toni grumbled with irritation. Howl hid his smirk from her, but Will caught it out of the corner of his eye.

"I bow to the master," he sniggered a few minutes later, when the men had been assigned the task of getting the bags out of the car.

"Well, the majority of my life has been spent living with at least one woman, you learn these things," he shrugged, pulling a suitcase out. "And since very soon _you_ will be living with a woman, I'd advise you take note," he added.

"I've been with Eli for about four years, I think I know at least a _bit_ about how to get along with her," he objected with a slight frown.

"Oh really? And if she sends you out to the shops to buy tampons will you know which brand to get? Do you know the precise amount of compliments to give her when she changes her hair or gets a new outfit to make her believe that you really care, and aren't just pretending?" he questioned with an accusingly raised brow. "And tell me, when is the most appropriate moment to offer to do the washing up? Because if you don't offer once in a while, she's not going to be particularly friendly," he added.

"I'm hiring a maid," Darcy muttered decidedly.

"Probably a good idea. I might look into getting one too," Howl agreed thoughtfully.

"You're probably better off looking at a Nanny, considering your wife's condition," Will pointed out. Howl chuckled in response.

"Another possibility!" he laughed, taking out another suitcase and lugging them behind him as he started up the steps.

Pemberley was just as beautiful as it had ever been. But over the past two years, it had been in need of some severe renovations and repairs, which had pushed the opening date for the school back several times. But it was worth it.

Old, creaky floors had been replaced, as had some of the stairs and moulding, a few layers of paint in some spots and entire refurbishment in others, a few walls had been knocked down and a few more had been put up, new appliances and technologies had been added, and two years later the place looked like a dream come true. It had always been perfect – but now it was twice as so.

"I guess we'd better talk to the staff before everyone else arrives," Will decided, helping a slightly sleepy and grumpy Eli out of the back seat of the car.

"Bah. I want to go to bed," she yawned.

"As nice as a nap may seem, we need to make sure everyone knows what's going on before we relax. It's only fair," Will reminded his fiancée with a laugh. She rolled her dark eyes.

"_Fine_, but then I'm going to bed," she decided firmly.

"You have to unpack," he pointed out.

"Bah! Unpacking is for the weak. Sleep is for the strong," she reasoned firmly, pulling a bag out of the boot and dragging it triumphantly behind her. Will resisted the urge to chuckle.

"Alright, super-woman, let's have a quick word to Mrs Reynolds, take these upstairs, and you can get a nap, alright?" he suggested.

"Sounds slightly tolerable, might look into it," she muttered reluctantly, leaving their bags at the bottom of the stairs where they would retrieve them later, and following her betrothed to Mrs Reynolds rooms.

"Oh, and I nearly forgot," William said suddenly, turning to Eli. He gave her a quick, but firm kiss on the lips. "Welcome home."

**A/N: I want to thank you all for your jokes, they were very funny... *cough cough* I particularly liked Bonbonnett's Winnie the Pooh inspired piece of brilliance: So wotcha think Kanga said to Roo?  
"Hope you're hoppy!"**

** Found this particularly amusing, as I am Australian and Roo and Kanga are muchly loved here :D**


	27. Of News and Blues

"_And if you want to, talk about what will be,_

_Come and sit with me,_

_And cry... on my shoulder, I'm a friend"_

-James Blunt, 'Cry'

On the outside, Pemberley, and the guests behind the grand walls, seemed very calm, happy and pleasant. But if one were to look beyond the snow topped fields and cheery smiles, there was a general feeling of anxiousness and resentment building up in the hearts of those assembled.

After the mobile phone incident (which Emilia still didn't understand), she had taken to avoiding Jane. In fact, she had really taken to avoiding everyone. She was filled with a mixture of different emotions, and suspicion was one of them. She didn't know _who_ stole her phone and _who_ sent the horrible messages to Jane, and she really didn't want to know. She didn't want to think or feel or function, she just wanted to slip away and hide in her own misery. She busied herself with the final push for the wedding preparations, and was most often in town, avoiding company.

Toni's frustration was building up to a point where she was constantly upset and angry at everyone, and when she _wasn't_ asleep, she was just plain miserable. So much so that less than a day into the stay at Pemberley, Howl had to drag her to a clinic to see if anything was particularly wrong with her. She was given twenty-four hour bed rest (with the exception of a few strolls and dinner attendance), only serving to increase her bad mood.

Eli's anxiousness and anticipation for both the wedding and news of the result of her audition was making her distracted and jumpy. She was a bundle of nerves at most times, and it took only the smallest thing to trigger an emotional outburst. Just about everyone was on tenterhooks around her.

Both Howl and Will were somewhat confused with the behaviour of their respective partners, and were doing the best to keep them happy. In the case of Howl, it consisted of singing to sooth Polliwog, and knowing just what and what not to say at the appropriate moments, whilst for William, the best thing he could do was really leave Eli to her self, much to his own disappointment.

Other guests seemed to settle in well. Char and Richard had taken it upon themselves to treat William to a week-long stag (of which William wasn't _actually_ participating, but it gave Char and Richard opportunities to get blind drunk on his father's collection of scotch each night), Taylor and James took long romantic walks in the gardens, discussing cutesy couple things like rainbows and puppies, looking at the week-long break as some sort of second honeymoon. Jane was pretty much impossible to find the majority of the time (much to her Aunt's disappointment) and Frank always seemed to be off doing something, but others just moped around, like Marianne, who could be seen sitting in a window-sill somewhere staring out into the snowy fields the majority of the time, with a sad and far-off look on her face. Christopher always seemed willing to come to her assistance and entertain her, but he was trying in vain. She was still hurting from her boyfriend's betrayal, and his kindness was invisible to her.

Nellie, however, kept herself busy with Emilia, who asked no questions, but was beginning to suspect that she wasn't as strong as she seemed to appear. Every now and then, when she thought no one could see, Nellie would sigh and stare out the window with the saddest look in her eyes. It led Emilia often to question which sister was hurting the most.

"She cries a lot. She spends most nights crying. She'll tell me about all the wonderful times she and Danny had, and I let her cry it out. It's good for her," Nellie explained with a sigh as the two finalised the dessert menu with the cook in the Pemberley kitchen who would be making the dinner for the wedding.

"And she tells you how she's feeling?" Emilia questioned, scribbling a few notes down in her notebook which she was using to organise the wedding.

"In a way, yes. But she doesn't tell me everything, she seems to think that I have no idea what she's going through, so I won't be of any help," she sighed with a small, weak shrug. "It would be good for you to talk to her. I think she needs to get some perspective. She can't be heartbroken forever, not when such an amazing guy like Christopher is there for her," she added.

"I probably will talk to her after the wedding. But if she's hurting... perhaps it's best I don't try to make her forget Danny. I wouldn't want that," she said quietly in response.

"I just hope she realises that she at least has hope of love with Christopher. It's not like she has no one. It's not like Danny was her one true love," Nellie sighed.

"She's young. It probably seems like he is," Emilia conceded. Nellie shook her head firmly.

"No. I know she's hurting, but it's not the end of the world. Danny wasn't for her – he was a bad guy and it's better he's out of her life," she said with conviction. Emilia gave a small, understanding smile.

"That's one way of looking at it. But it's much easier to say it than to feel it. _You_ might know it, _I_ might know it, but she doesn't. She doesn't feel it," she explained simply. Nellie gave another sigh.

"I know. And I know I'm being hard on her. I just – I hate to see her in pain like this," she confessed. Emilia smiled.

"I know. And I'll talk to her, but I'm not promising anything. I'm not exactly the best person to be giving out advice at the moment," she laughed, attempting to sound light hearted, but it was clear she was anything but.

Later that day, when Emilia began a search of the estate to find Marianne and see if she could get her to open up, she was distracted from her mission by another that seemed to appear.

"Eli? Are you okay?" she questioned cautiously, when she saw her friend curled up in one of Marianne's favourite moaping windowsills, her ripped-denim clad knees pulled up beneath her chin, dark eyes staring out into the garden with a slight frown on her face.

"I just got a call from someone at the theatre," she said slowly, when Emilia had repeated the question and startled her out of her reverie. "I didn't get lead. The second soprano did," she confessed finally.

"But that's ridiculous! You _so_ deserve that position! How could they possibly –"

"They gave her the job because she's a good singer and she's experienced, Emi. That's it. There's no arguing. And it's not like I stood a chance anyway," Eli interrupted in a clipped tone. Emilia was startled at her calmness.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Emilia asked slowly. Eli fixed a rather forced smile to her lips.

"Sure. I'm fine. Great. And it would have just made life difficult, anyway, all that travelling and the long hours. This way at least, I get to focus on Pemberley and getting the school going," she answered with determination, sliding off the window seat. "I'm going to go for a walk or something. I'll see you at dinner," she muttered, walking away without another word.

Emilia couldn't believe it. How could Eli, who was so talented, not get the lead? So what if she didn't have as much experience as the ridiculous second soprano, Heidi something, she was a gifted musician! She _deserved_ the part!

"She doesn't really want to talk about it. But I agree with you. It makes no sense that she didn't get the part, she's clearly a lot better than bloody _Heidi_," William said with irritation after dinner when Emilia brought the topic up with him in the drawing room.

"You two had best keep your noses out of this. It's unfortunate that Eli didn't get the part, but the decision of the theatre is final, and getting upset about it isn't going to help Eli. There will be other opportunities for her," Howl interrupted in his usual commanding tone.

"But you _know_ she deserved the part!" Will insisted angrily.

"My opinions aside, it is not my decision, it is not your decision, and it is not Eli's decision," he said calmly, folding his hands in his lap. "The second soprano has more experience than Eli has, so it's understandable why the theatre decided to pick her," he added rationally.

"Understandable? That's bull shit! It's a bloody popularity contest!" William insisted angrily.

"Your fifteen year old sister is arriving here tomorrow, William, so I would suggest that you don't use that sort of language around her. It does not help _anyone_ getting upset," Howl replied with just as much calmness as before, but with more firmness. William scowled in frustration.

"Howl's right. We shouldn't get involved," Emilia conceded finally.

"Why am I the only one who can see that Eli's been ripped off a position that she deserves? Am I the only one who can see how unfair it is?" Will questioned with quiet frustration.

"You're blinded with your love for Eli. You're too impartial to make judgement, and it doesn't matter anyway, you can't change the decision of the theatre, and it'll only upset Eli to see you like this. _Calm down_," Howl practically commanded his soon to be adopted-son-in-law. Will sunk back into his armchair moodily. "Now I have a pregnant wife to attend to, so I'll leave you two to brood and curse me in my absence. I'll see you in the morning," he finished, rising from his chair, and leaving the room.

"But he's right. Eli's only going to get upset if we complain about this," Emilia sighed.

"I was counting on you to complain with me. Since when do you refuse to get involved?" William frowned. Emilia shrugged, and thought for a few minutes before responding.

"Since... since I realised that getting yourself involved with things that are none of your business only ends up hurting you and everyone else around you. We might not agree with what the theatre decided, but we have to grin and bear it," she sighed finally in answer. "I'm going to bed. I'm tired," she declared, rising from her chair, and walking upstairs.

"It just doesn't seem fair... and I don't even know why it's not fair. It just _feels_ that way," she heard a muffled sob sound from a partially opened door in the hallway. She slowly crept forwards, and peered through the gap.

Eli sat on her bed with Howl, practically crying into his shirt. He had comforting arms wrapped around her, and he was gently soothing her emotions with his calm voice.

"I know; cariad. I know, but there's nothing you can do," he said softly.

"This has never happened to me before. U – Usually when I try for something, I _get_ it. What's wrong with me?" she questioned tearfully. Howl chuckled.

"There's nothing wrong with you. You're just not perfect at everything, and that's okay. You've spent most your life being better at others at the things that matter to you, but there's always going to be someone out there who is better than you at something, or someone who gets the opportunities and the lead roles and the attention," he said calmly. "The trick is to learn from it. So what if you didn't get this part? There will be other roles, and they'll have to select a new second soprano. You never know what might happen," he rationalised.

"I feel so stupid. I just counted on getting this because I'm so used to everyone saying that I'm the best. I should never have been so cocky," she muttered bitterly.

"Eli, you're a really clever and talented girl, and you _are_ gifted, but it doesn't mean that everything will be easy for you. You remember what it was like before you came to England? Life wasn't easy. Life doesn't get any easier, but we learn to deal with its shortcomings and we move on. That's what you have to do," he said calmly.

"But it means I don't have an excuse to stay near London. I don't want to live in Pemberley all the time, I want to be back with you and Toni and Polliwog. I want to see my brother grow up," she sniffled.

"Then _talk_ to William. You remember the trouble you two got into because you never talked about how you really felt when you were in school? You don't want a repeat of the pain you two had to go through," he reminded her gently. "And you don't have to leave the theatre. You can talk to William and see what you two can do, it doesn't mean you'll live at Pemberley all the time, just tell him how you really feel, cariad," he urged her. She gave another sniffle.

"I will. It's just – I don't even know. I don't want to lose him. I don't want to end up miserable," she admitted. Howl gave a soft smile.

"No one does. But you two love each other, and trust is really important in any relationship. One of the reasons why Antoinette and I had a lot of difficulty in our first few years together was because we didn't trust each other with how we really felt. We kept secrets and hid the truth from each other. It's not healthy," he explained.

It was here Emilia turned away to slip into her own bedroom. She was filled with a sudden sense of how _stupid_ she had been, how ridiculous and immature and selfish she had been the whole time. She should have just been honest and told George how she felt, she should have been _honest_ and not confessed to a crime she knew nothing about just to please him. She'd screwed up. She'd messed up massively, and she'd lost him because of it.

She _needed_ George at that very moment. She needed him to hold her and make everything better. She needed what had once been her happy family, she had been missing so much in her life for the past few years, and now that she was missing George... but she needed more than him. She needed more than just the man who _was _her heart, but had also broken it.

She needed her Mum.

**A/N: Alright, I'm sorry! My internet cut out about 48 hours ago and I've been going crazy, we had to buy a new modem just so I could get this chapter up! And it's not even a long one! I'm **_**really**_** sorry...**

**Anyway, some of you might be a little bewildered as to why Eli didn't get the part if she's so talented. Well, Eli is an angsty little chappette who usually gets what she wants, and I think that it's important to make her character a little less... well, I didn't want her to be the best at everything. She was too unbelievable, and this is an important step in her characterisation. Anyways, please enjoy this chapter, and I'll try to upload the next one as soon as possible!**


	28. Of Things Old, New, Borrowed and Blue

"_And where was I before the day, that I first saw your lovely face?  
Now I see it everyday, and I know;_

_That I am, I am, I am the luckiest..."_

-Ben Folds, 'The Luckiest'_  
_

Emilia's organisation of the wedding couldn't have been any more perfect. Pemberley looked beautiful draped in a layer of white snow, with silver and gold Christmas decorations everywhere, mixed with the pinky-peachy-pastel shades for the wedding. The small chapel by the courtyard that would hold the wedding was illuminated with hundreds of candles, light reflecting off the satin ribbons attached to almost every surface.

Eli looked beautiful in the gown Emilia had designed for her. It was a simple dress made from silk and lace, and flowed about her bare feet, making her look like some sort of fairy or elf (with slightly smaller ears). Her hair flowed freely down her back in a mane of soft chocolate curls, her dark eyes sparkled with nervousness, and her cheeks flushed pale pink. She clutched a bouquet of pink roses and baby's breath tightly in her hand, and Howl's in the other as he led her up the isle.

And everyone looked beautiful and in their best spirits. A night wedding was the best idea imaginable, and on such a special day as Christmas Eve – it was perfect. Emilia, Toni and Georgie were the bride's maids in their dresses of pale pink (Georgie couldn't help but squeal with excitement every ten seconds), and Richard stood as William's best man in George's absence.

Due to the restrictions of a Church of England wedding in England, only the traditional vows could be used by Will and Eli, but they were both so nervous that it didn't look like they could say much else than what had been rehearsed.

"Please repeat after me. I, William James Leopold Darcy the Fifth –"

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," Toni sniggered on the sidelines, breaking the 'moment'. The Minister shot her a quick, silencing glare.

"We can't make this as ridiculous as _our_ vows were, darling," Howl hissed to his wife, who rolled her pale eyes.

"Sorry about that. Do continue."

"William James Leopold Darcy the Fifth, take thee Elizabeth Aurélie Juliet Grey Noëlle-Llewellyn –"

"Actually, I think hers might possibly be worse."

"_Antoinette_!"

"Oops! Sorry!"

"I, William James Leopold Darcy the Fifth, take thee, Elizabeth Aurélie Juliet Grey Noëlle-Llewellyn," the minister said for the third time, looking a little terse.

"I, William James Leopold Darcy the Fifth, take thee, Elizabeth Aurélie Juliet Grey Noëlle-Llewellyn," William repeated dutifully, reaching for Eli's hands.

"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer."

"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer," William repeated.

"In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part," the priest prompted.

"In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part," William continued, but all who knew him well enough could tell that not even death would pull him away from Eli.

"According to God's holy law, in the presence of God I make this vow," the priest finished.

"According to God's holy law, in the presence of God I make this vow," William repeated finally, allowing a broad grin to overtake his features and a relieved sigh.

"And now, Elizabeth, repeat after me," the priest requested, but she spoke before he could continue.

"I, Elizabeth Aurélie Juliet Grey Noëlle-Llewellyn, take thee, William James Leopold Darcy the Fifth, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part," she stated promptly. The priest blinked in surprise.

"She's a genius," Toni informed him in a hissed voice. He stumbled with his words for a moment, before continuing.

"According to God's holy law, in the presence of God I make this vow," he blabbered out finally.

""According to God's holy law, in the presence of God I make this vow," Eli said smartly, with a small grin.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride," he announced, stepping back from the couple.

William stepped forwards and cupped his new wife's face with tentative hands, bestowing a sweet, but not overly flamboyant kiss on her lips, unlike the wedding of Howl and Toni, where Howl pretty much snogged Toni senseless the moment he could. William pulled away, and with a happy laugh, hugged his wife to his chest and kissed her forehead as their friends and family cheered around them.

"Oh my God! I have a sister!" Georgie squealed joyfully, practically bounding up and down with excitement.

"Congratulations, you two. Now. Is the bride for sharing, or do you not love me?" Richard intervened with a broad grin.

"You're so sleeping on the couch tonight," Char threatened, trying not to laugh. But William didn't even notice, he was grinning too broadly.

"I'm married. I'm _married._ I have a _wife_," he declared proudly.

"I have a civil partner. Beat _that_, wench," Richard retorted.

"So. Mrs Darcy," Howl sighed, with a proud, albeit bittersweet smile on his lips as he turned to his adopted child.

"I _wish_. Tell him what you're doing to your name, Eli," Darcy sighed, wrapping an arm around his new wife's waist.

"You can't call me Mrs Darcy, but you _can_ call me Elizabeth Aurélie Juliet Grey Noëlle-Llewellyn-Darcy," she grinned mischievously.

"You're not serious, are you?" Toni exclaimed, to which Eli nodded energetically.

"I'll introduce myself as just 'Eli Darcy', but on the dotted line I'm keeping those names," she informed her parents, who were both trying to conceal proud grins.

"But what about your kids?" Richard exclaimed in horror.

"Oh, they'll be Darcys. But it's important to Eli that she gets to keep her name. After all, she didn't have it that long really, so she wants to hang onto it for a little longer," William explained.

"Thank you, Eli. That's really lovely," Howl smiled, pulling her in for a hug.

"It gets better. William and I got to talking," she announced.

"And?"

"Well, even if I don't get the second soprano position –"

"But they said it's almost certain you would," Howl pointed out. She waved him off.

"I'm not taking anything for granted. But we're staying in Rosings Park. We'll spend the holidays up at Pemberley, and work it around my schedule at theatre, until we're ready to make it a full-time school, by which time Polliwog will be old enough to attend," she decided firmly. Howl's eyes widened in surprise.

"Are you serious about this?" he questioned anxiously, directing his remark to William, who nodded firmly.

"It's not fair if I take her away from the place she's been the happiest. And we'll still be running the school; we've already got some bookings. It may be a little bit difficult in terms of schedules, but we'll manage," he said with conviction.

"You guys don't know how much that means to us," Toni interjected, almost crying with happiness. "Hormones. Don't you _dare_ make fun of me," the threatened, when Eli was about to remark on her tears.

"Where will you be living?" Howl questioned.

"Well... if it's alright with you, Eli's really attached to the idea of seeing Polliwog grow up, so we thought we might stay with you two for a while longer. Just until you two think you can handle a screaming child by yourself and won't need out constant assistance," William explained with a small smile.

"Of course. We'd love to have you," Howl laughed joyfully. "This is perfect. I'm so glad I didn't have to lose you," he sighed happily, pulling Eli into another hug.

"Come on, lets go eat! I'm starving!" Taylor giggled, rushing up to the blushing bride. She was then swamped with Emilia, Georgie, Antoinette and Henrietta, who were all talking at once, stepping out of the church and to the sun room, which had been decorated in the same pastel colour scheme and had hundreds of candles around to illuminate their meal.

"William. It means a lot to me that you would do this. To Eli," Howl said sincerely when the rest of the party was gone.

"I wouldn't have done it if I'd known. I _never_ would have even thought of it," he confessed with slight pain. "I didn't know what she gave up to be here with me. How could I ask her to give up her family a second time? Her _home_ a second time?" he questioned incredulously.

"Just... don't tell Eli I told you. She didn't want you to know that she picked you over her family and Australia. Just look after her for me," he requested gently. William nodded.

"It'll work out. We'll get to Pemberley one day, and as long as she's happy now, I'm happy too," he decided. Howl smiled.

"Well, you've figured out marriage, my boy. Just as long as you can master the washing up you'll be fine," he assured him with a laugh, clapping him on the back. William gave a grateful smile, and they walked out of the church together. "So let's say we go find our wives then?" he suggested with a grin.

"Wife. I have a _wife_."

"I have a wife, a daughter and a son on the way. I win," Howl retorted smugly.

"Not for long. You've had a head start, but I think we can catch up pretty quickly," William challenged. Howl raised a brow.

"Oh really? Well then. Let's just hope Polliwog is one of a set of triplets so I can enjoy being in the lead for a little while longer." William laughed.

"I'm glad she stuck around, and I'm glad you were here for her. I hope I'm as good as you are at taking care of Eli," he said suddenly.

"Well, the pleasure was all mine. Now go look after your wife," he instructed. William nodded, grinned, and stepped towards Eli with purpose in his gait, and a smile on his lips.

"You look happy," Toni commented, wrapping an arm around her husband's waist.

"Well, that's because I am," he retorted simply, gently patting his wife's ever growing belly. With only a little over a month left, she was nearly getting to a point where waddling was necessary. But she had been allowed the small excursion of attending the ceremony and half of the dinner with the condition that she wouldn't exert herself over the next few days. "They're going to last. I know it," he sighed, resting his chin on top of Antoinette's head, his chest pressed to her back, hands wrapped around her from behind to rest on her stomach.

"We did a good job on her. I know we only had her for a few years, but she's come out good," Toni decided.

"Well hopefully we do just as well on Polliwog, eh?"

"That would be nice," she sighed, and, as if on cue, Polliwog began a round of vigorous kicking against Howl's hands.

"Little one, please appreciate that your mother is quite exhausted, and doesn't want to be kicked tonight," he requested gently. Toni laughed.

"If only he would listen to orders!" she said wistfully.

"I love you," Howl declared suddenly. "I don't think I say it enough these days. But I do, cariad."

"I love you too, babe. Now Baby and I are getting a bit hungry. What's say we eat?" she suggested, to which Howl chuckled.

"Good to know you have your priorities straight, love," he said, pressing a quick kiss to her shoulder, before they gripped hands, and headed over to the happy party with smiles on their faces, and love in their hearts.

**A/N: Another short chappie. But next chapter is when everything starts moving along with George and Emilia, so stay tuned!!!**

**Oh, and my little sister turned twelve today! Little Grace, all grown up! Sigh, she's such an adult now, as all twelve year olds seem to think they are. Happy birthday, Gracie-Babe!!!!!! ^__^**


	29. Of Honesty and Hills

"_Walking up the hill tonight, when you have closed your eyes,  
I wish I didn't have to make, all those mistakes and be wise  
Please try to be patient, and know that I'm still learning,  
I'm sorry that you have to see, the strength inside me burning  
But where are you my angel now? Don't you see me crying?  
And I know that you can't do it all, but you can't say I'm not trying,  
I'm on my knees in front of him, but he doesn't seem to see me,  
With all his troubles on his mind, he's looking right through me  
And I'm letting myself down, by satisfying you,  
And I wish that you could see, that have my troubles too..._"

-Marketa Irglova, 'The Hill'

"Oh. Hey, Emilia," Marianne greeted with a weak smile as she snuck into the kitchen on Christmas Day.

"Hey there. So are you just particularly eager to open your presents, or did you really fancy a cup of hot chocolate?" Emilia questioned with a smile as she bustled around, trying to find chocolate and a saucepan in the large, silent kitchen.

"Just... sitting here, I guess," Marianne shrugged, rubbing her tired eyes. "I couldn't really sleep much after last night. And everyone was drinking so much I doubt we'll see them until noon," she attempted to joke, but her laugh came out as more of a sigh.

"Well from the way William was looking at Eli last night after a few rounds of champagne, I kind of doubt they'll be surfacing until New Years," she retorted, setting the saucepan down atop the stove. "You want some? Hot chocolate is my speciality," she offered, glancing back to her silent friend.

"I thought you were terrible at cooking," Marianne commented in surprise.

"Oh, normally I am. But I've always made a good hot chocolate, and I've been spending so much time with the cooks trying to work out what to make for the wedding dinner that I've picked up a few things. I can actually make a roast dinner now, and before I couldn't even boil water without something going wrong," she explained with a shrug.

"Well, alright. I could use something to cheer me up," she conceded.

"I'd say. You don't seem up to your normally chipper self," Emilia pointed out. Marianne sighed as she stared at her hands.

"I wish I could be a bit more like you, Em. Nothing seems to hurt you. Your mother passed away, and you didn't blink an eye. George leaves the country, and you're still a bundle of laughs. I don't – I don't have that kind of strength," she muttered ashamedly. Emilia set the saucepan down quietly.

"There are things you don't know, Marianne. I'm not a role model. I'm probably the worst person you could _ever_ want to be like," she muttered with slight pain.

"But nothing ever seems to hurt you. It's like you're invincible," Marianne exclaimed. Emilia slowly shook her head.

"I'm not. God, Marianne... I'm _so_ not invincible. No one is, but I'm so far from invincible that if you were to even nudge me right now I'd probably explode," she confessed.

Marianne didn't respond for a while as Emilia continued to busy herself with the hot chocolate. She waited to speak until there were two steaming mugs before them and they were sipping them in silence.

"Do you want to go for a walk later? I'd like it if we could talk," she suggested finally. Emilia gave a weak smile.

"Of course. But probably not today, things will be too busy here. Why don't we go tomorrow morning?" she suggested. Marianne nodded.

"Good. I think I might spend this Christmas in bed, actually. I'm just – I'm too tired to be happy for anyone here," she muttered.

"Sounds like a good plan. Now I was thinking about taking some of this up to Antoinette, she's been really craving chocolate for the past few days. Want to help me?" she suggested. Marianne nodded, and they set about pouring the remaining mixture into a large soup mug for the Mummy-to-be.

"I was hoping on spending Christmas this year in London. But that plan didn't really come through, and Nellie really wanted to be here for the wedding, so I thought I'd come with her for some company," Marianne explained as they mounted the stairs. "Which one is Antoinette and Howl's room?" she questioned curiously.

"Uhh... this one, I think. But we'd best knock," Emilia decided, stepping forwards. She knocked loudly and clearly, and heard a muffled groan of acknowledgement. "I guess this is it," she shrugged, pulling the door open.

Had she been the one holding the hot chocolate, and not Marianne, she probably would have dropped it.

Lying in bed, half asleep but completely naked, was Frank Churchill and _Jane Fairfax_! She gasped audibly and stepped back in shock as the couple practically fell out of bed in a vain attempt to cover themselves up.

"Oh my _God!_" Marianne squealed in horror.

"Shit, Emilia, it's not what you think," Frank stammered out awkwardly, pulling on a pair of trousers with haste.

"Really? Because I _think_ you're naked in bed with Jane, and I _think_ that you have the smallest –"

"Do you have to ruin _this_, too?" Jane snapped angrily, tugging the sheet up to cover her naked body. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Wrong room, apparently. I'll leave," she said coolly, turning heel and slamming the door closed.

"What's going on out here?" Howl questioned with annoyance, practically falling out of the opposite room, pyjama pants and a loose old band shirt covering his obviously recently awoken body.

"This is for your wife," Marianne declared, gesturing to the large mug of hot chocolate.

"Alright, I'm sure she'll appreciate that. But what's with the _noise_?" he grumbled with annoyance.

"We just walked into the wrong room, and Jane and Frank were in bed together!" Marianne cried excitedly, looking alive for the first time in weeks. Howl's eyes widening was the only sign of his surprise. He hazarded a concerned glance to Emilia, who was purposely staring at anything but him.

"Uh, Marianne, would you mind taking this in for Antoinette? I think I need a word with Emilia," he muttered meaningfully. Marianne immediately ducked into the room, and Howl leant over to close the door behind her. "I'm going to kill that boy," he declared calmly.

"No. You won't."

"Fine. George will kill him," he corrected himself. Emilia sighed, and shook her head, which was filled to the brim with confusing thoughts, all dashing around like mad.

"I think I'm going back to bed."

"Listen, why don't you go stay with Antoinette for a while? She can't get up for a few more hours anyway, and she'd appreciate the company. I think it would be a good place for you to... hide out, as it were," he suggested. Emilia nodded, and moved to slip into the bedroom. "He'd want to know, Em. He'd want to know what's happened," he said suddenly, with a pained expression in his eyes. Emilia gave a small, bitter smile, and was ashamed to feel tears well in her pale eyes.

"No. He wouldn't. He simply wouldn't care, and I can't handle his 'I told you so' dance right now. Not today," she muttered finally, before pulling open the door and stepping into Antoinette's room.

~ * ~

By the time Christmas lunch was served, everyone in Pemberley knew. And by the time dinner came along, and with it the opening of presents, possibly all of England knew what had happened. And suddenly everyone had the upmost concern for Emilia and her poor, broken heart. She excused herself from dinner early and left her presents unopened because she simply couldn't handle anymore pitiful glances from the majority of the party, and any cool, smug ones from Jane. Not even Frank's apologetic glances she could stand.

What hurt her the most was the knowledge that it had been going on for nearly a year. Ever since Jane and Frank met back in Boston they had been together. Apparently when Jane saw an article about _George _clothing which hypothesised about how Emilia Woodhouse and George Knightley were now an item, she had been filled with an uncontrollable rage that made her desire revenge. Her sole purpose in returning to England, and Frank's reason for being there, was to cause her pain.

It certainly explained a lot to Emilia, who couldn't believe she had been so _stupid_. Apparently now that George had left Frank wanted to complete their 'mission' and return to America, but Jane had wanted to stay, to hurt Emilia even more in some way. They'd had to keep their relationship a secret, due to Frank's wealthy Aunt, who controlled everything in his life, as she didn't want him to marry some 'commoner'.

Emilia couldn't sleep that night as she rolled the situation over in her head. She was so _angry_ with Jane, who had caused so many people pain, but also with Frank, and with herself. She had been so _stupid_, she'd let herself get hurt, she'd let Jane pull George away from her because she was too weak to resist.

"But I thought you cared about Frank," Marianne said with confusion the next morning, when the two met to take a long walk around the Pemberley grounds to clear their heads.

"He complimented me. He made me feel... good about myself," she sighed ashamedly. "I never liked him, not really. Not in that way. But it was nice to think that maybe... maybe _I _was liked," she explained with a shrug.

"And doesn't George make you feel good about yourself?" Marianne frowned.

"No. He makes me feel horrible about myself. He makes me feel like I'm insignificant and shallow and selfish and ugly. He has ever since I was a little girl. I care about him_ so_ much, but... but his sole purpose in life seems to be to hurt me sometimes and I don't understand why," she confessed, feeling a tear slip from her eyes. She wiped it away. It was a sign of weakness.

"Emilia? Do you –"

"Love him?" she questioned sadly. "Yes. I always have. In one way or another, for as long as I've known him. He's the most important person to me, I – I'd die for him if he asked me, and he – he doesn't give a _damn_," she insisted angrily, kicking a clump of snow with force and frustration.

"Are you sure? I mean, maybe he had a good reason to leave," Marianne suggested weakly. Emilia shook her head.

"No. M – Marianne, ever since I was a child, the most horrible punishment my parents could inflict on me was to take me away from George. And he knew that. It made him laugh," she said with bitter anger. "A – And _now_, he's willingly left – he's _willingly_ just left me here where I'm supposed to pretend I'm okay with everything, where I'm supposed to pretend that he hasn't hurt me. I – I can't pretend I'm okay," she confessed brokenly.

"Emilia, I – I didn't know. You seem so..." Marianne trailed off, not even able to find words for the image that Emilia Woodhouse presented to the world.

"I'm not _strong_. I'm not! People think that I'm okay with losing my mother, with losing George, but I'm just _not_, I miss her and I miss _him_!" she cried finally, years of repressed feelings exploding out of her like an expertly constructed dam that just couldn't take anything more. "I miss her every day! I miss her eyes, and her hair, and the way she smelt and the way she made everything better, and I miss _him_," she sobbed pathetically, wiping her cheek furiously to be rid of the tears.

"Then why didn't you cry at her funeral? Why don't you cry? Why aren't you upset?" Marianne questioned incredulously, her eyes filled with sadness and pity for the girl before her.

"I was in the car, Marianne. N – Not many people know that. When it crashed, she – she reached over to try and save me," she said softly. Marianne gasped. "When I woke up in hospital a few hours later and the nurse told me what happened, I – I was _grateful_ that if I had to lose someone, it was Mum. I looked at it like a trade, even though he was never in the car. I – I didn't want to lose _him. _I was _happy_ that I got to keep him," she admitted ashamedly. "I don't _deserve_ to cry over her, not when I was _happy_ to hear that she died instead of George. What kind of daughter am I? What kind of person am I to love someone more than my own mother? More than _myself_?" she cried desperately.

"I'm so sorry, Em. I didn't know. No one knew," Marianne muttered.

"It's always been him. It's always been George. No one else matters to me, not compared to him. And I can't forgive him for leaving me! For making me _love_ him more than I can comprehend!" she continued, as if she were unable to stop. "If the entire world was destroyed and only he and I were left I'd be _happy_. Because I wouldn't have to share him. If everything else died I'd still be there to love him. And that's what's hard, that's what's going to tear me apart, I'll _never_ stop loving him, and I'll _never_ get over this. He's gone, for good, probably, and I – I can't keep this up," she confessed.

"You aren't –"

"Well what do I have to live for, Marianne? If he loved me he wouldn't have gone. He wouldn't say all the horrible things he says, he wouldn't torture me and lecture me and shout at me as if I were nothing more to him than a – a stupid _child_," she retorted, wiping away another tear.

"But you have your friends. Your family," Marianne reminded her, somewhat pathetically.

"_But I don't have George_!" she cried, with wide, desperate eyes. "I – I know this is so melodramatic, but Marianne, what kind of life would it be if it didn't have George in it?" she questioned softly. "I – I'm _never_ happy. I'm always miserable and I always pretend I'm not, a – and I'm _sick of it_," she insisted.

"He loves you. He'll come back," Marianne insisted softly.

"No. No, Marianne, he won't. And I have to accept that," she replied, swallowing down another wave of tears. She looked solemn and broken as she stared out to the wide open abyss that seemed to appear before her. Endless fields and forests coated in white snow, so pure that she couldn't tell where land ended and the heavens began. They had, in their conversation, climbed to the top of a hill that overlooked all of Pemberley.

"Fight for him, Emilia. I didn't fight for Danny and I wish I did. Not because I – I wanted _him_, but because I don't think I deserve love until I've earned it. And you can't earn love if you don't fight," Marianne insisted.

"Maybe. I – I don't know."

"How do you feel now? Is it better, speaking about it? Nellie never speaks about how she feels. She's like you. I think it hurts more that way," Marianne responded softly, turning to her friend.

"I – It aches. It just aches."

"But it's better to have loved and lost, they say," she rationalised. Emilia gave a bitter laugh.

"Marianne, one day... one day you're going to fall in love. And you'll realise that it's not how they describe it in books, it's not a fairytale and it's not easy. It's something burning and brilliant and it can die, or it can keep on going forever. But it always finds a way to hurt you, and when it burns it takes out everything it can," she explained quietly.

"So... you can't cherish the good memories and forget the bad ones? You can't move on?" Marianne asked gently. Emilia shook her head.

"I don't have anything like that left. All he's left me with is an empty place in my heart, in our apartment, in my hand... his fit in mine so perfectly, you know..." she muttered wistfully, staring at her palms. "A – And when I wake up in the middle of the night screaming, he's not there to – he's not _there_. So that's all I have left, no happy memories, just empty spaces. That's what happens when you love, Marianne. So I hope you don't love, I hope you don't _really_ love anyone at all, because it'll end up destroying you," she said softly, wiping away a single tear that had managed to escape her attempts to contain them.

"Why is it that we're always the most poetic when we're in pain?" Marianne questioned. Emilia shrugged, and turned back to the white flats spread out before her.

"It wouldn't be easy any other way," she sighed quietly.

"We should go back. They might be worried."

"You're right. Watch your step – we might be back by lunch," she finished with a sigh, turning heel.

In one quick second, the combination of fashionable but completely impractical boots, the high slope and the soggy earth led to their muffled screams as they fell back down the hill, disappearing behind white slopes.

One second later, the hill stood empty and solitary, overlooking the endless white fields in silence.

**A/N: Ahh, angst. It's always terrible, but will soon be reconciled. Sorry, I love drama :D**


	30. Of Fears and Fights

"_Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend,  
Somewhere along in the bitterness,  
And I would have stayed up with you all night,  
Had I known how to save a life_,"  
-The Fray, 'How to Save a Life'

"Where is she?" George demanded angrily, storming into the hospital waiting room, where almost the entire wedding party was assembled. They all immediately rose in their seats, eyes filled with anxiousness and concern. "_Where is Emilia_?" he practically roared, everything in his mind and body screaming 'find her, go to her'. He'd been almost unable to sit still during the flight back to England, not after he'd spoken to Howl on the phone. He would _never_ forget that conversation.

"George, you need to calm down. This is no place to –"

"Howl, I'm in no mood to be calm," swore George furiously. "Someone had better tell me where she is _right now_ – and then you can tell me what the _hell_ she's doing in a damn hospital!" he cried angrily, glaring around the room. Most people there shrunk back in fear from him.

"She and Marianne went for a walk. They were both upset about something and C – Chris found them," Howl explained in a quiet voice. Ellen was crying in the corner to herself. "Marianne's not good. Chris is trying to find their mother now, but – George, we're all terrified of what might happen to them. You need to keep calm," he explained with a hushed tone.

"If you want me to be calm, Howl, you'll take me to Emilia right now," George growled in quiet, but radiating anger. Howl regarded him with a somewhat pitiful expression.

"We're not allowed to see either of them right now. We have to wait," he informed him calmly. "We don't know much right now. Nothing more than what I told you on the phone. The last time we spoke to a doctor was a few hours ago, George, so you have to be patient, you can't get angry," he continued.

"I'm _not_ waiting around here when I should be with _her_, I'm not going to sit around not even knowing if she's –" his words choked as he attempted to speak. He stepped back with a completely lost and painful expression. "If she's – she's –" he stammered, turning away from the group and clenching his fist tightly together. "What _happened_?" he begged desperately, turning back to Howl, eyes watering with unspent tears.

"They were spending some time together. They've both been... upset. We thought they might be helping each other heal," he explained helplessly. "They went out for a walk, the storm hit about an hour after they left – but we thought they'd already come back," he continued.

"How long was she out there?" George asked quietly.

"The storm only lasted an hour, and that's when we realised they hadn't come back. Chris found them a while later by the river. We don't know how it happened. They must have fallen down the hill," he answered, glancing back to those assembled. Eli was crying and pacing as Darcy desperately tried to calm her, Taylor was weeping into James' chest, and Toni simply stared sadly into space, one hand on her eight-month-pregnant belly. "Listen, George, we have to be realistic. They were lying in a ditch of freezing water for God knows how long. I know you don't want to think of the possibility –" he began in a strained voice.

"Shut _up_!" George cried furiously, ending Howl's rational speech. Tears fell from his eyes, but he didn't even acknowledge them. "Shut the _fuck_ up! How _dare_ you say –"

"Hey, George, _cool it_. Howl's just trying to be realistic," Frank interjected, pulling George's shoulder back before he decked his friend.

Clearly it was the wrong thing to do.

George wheeled around and punched Frank square in the nose. The younger man flew back and swore, clutching his face.

"You bastard. You _bastard_! I told you to be good to her, you fucking piece of _scum_!" George cried furiously, diving in again to land another fist on Frank's jaw. "You've hurt _her_, you treated Jane like shit, you've lied to _everyone_, and now she's lying in a fucking hospital bed!" he roared angrily, struggling as James, Howl and Darcy tried to pull him off the younger man.

"Ib snot _my_ bault!" Frank cried, his hand pressed tightly to his bleeding face. Jane cried out and rushed to him.

"Why the _fuck_ do you think she was 'upset'? It was because _you_ broke her heart!" George threw back furiously.

"She was upset because _you_ left her, George, it wasn't Frank's fault!" Jane snapped curtly.

"Jesus Christ Jane, when are you going to understand that you have _nothing_ to be jealous of? Emilia doesn't love me the way I love her – you have _no _reason to say that sort of shit," he objected, gritting his teeth in anger. Jane opened her mouth to object, but swallowed back her response when Frank gave a groan of pain. "Now that we've got that settled – someone had better take me to Emilia _right now_," he snapped.

"If he's going, I want to go too," Eli demanded, her jaw set and firm.

"Eli, love, you have to stay here. We all have to stay here," William reminded his new wife, attempting to calm her. She pulled away from him forcefully.

"And I'm going too. I can't sit here like this," Toni insisted, attempting to rise from her chair.

"Antoinette, sit back down. I'm not having you risk the baby," Howl commanded angrily.

"I need to see Emilia! I need to know if my cousin is alright!" she insisted, making a second attempt to rise, but it was clear she was in pain whilst doing so.

"Just _stay there_, you'll only hurt yourself," he insisted, trying to keep her in her seat. She sent him an angry glare.

"You're not the boss of _me_, Howell Llewellyn! I know how much my body can take, and I _need_ to find Emilia! I'm not sitting here waiting for news!" she threw back.

"I'm ending this discussion before you stress yourself and risk harming our son. If you're any kind of mother at all, you'll stay where you are," he finished coolly. Toni sunk back into the chair with an expression of extreme distaste. She turned away from her husband and refused to acknowledge him.

"This isn't helping. We need to find her," George snapped, turning heel, and storming off in search of someone who could help.

"Let him go. There's nothing we can do to stop him," Howl muttered when Richard moved to go after him.

"Well we have to do something. This is ridiculous. We can't just sit around _waiting_," he snapped.

"George has the best chances of finding her. This is a hospital, they won't give out information to just anyone. He lives with her, he's the most likely," Char rationalised.

"Antoinette is related. She'd have more luck, and she's pregnant, so they'd do anything to help her," Jane threw in, pausing her work in trying to help Frank clear the blood from his face.

"No one wants to hear from _you_, Jane, so shut up," Eli insisted angrily.

"Elizabeth!"

"You too, Will! I'm going to help George find her. I don't care about being polite, not when that bitch tried to hurt Emilia! Why don't you ask _her_ where Em's phone is?" she snapped curtly.

"Eli, wait, I'm coming too," Toni insisted, once more attempting to rise from her chair.

"You heard what the doctor said, you have to stay seated. If you move too much you could go into premature labour, Antoinette. He's not ready yet, you can't risk –"

"Damn you, Howl! If it were Eli, would you let me go? If it were Eli that was lying in a hospital bed somewhere, you and I would be doing everything we could to find her!" Toni threw back angrily. Howl blanched. "If it were our _son,_ you'd do anything to be with him. You wouldn't care about me being too weak for it. Well Emilia is too important to me to sit around like this!" she snapped.

"Let's try to find a wheelchair and I'll help you," he muttered finally. Toni sighed in relief.

"Thank you."

"We'll discuss this later. I'm only doing this so you don't hurt our son anymore than all this arguing might have done," he answered in a clipped, quiet tone.

"Well he's kicking me pretty hard for payback, so I'd say things are fine," she reasoned. He nodded, and immediately went in search of a wheelchair.

Down the hall, the dutiful nurse was squeaking in fear as George threw agitated enquiries to her.

"We can't release that information to you at the moment, sir."

"I _live_ with her! I've known her for her whole life! No one deserves to see her more than I do!" he insisted furiously.

"Are you her partner, sir?" the nurse questioned timidly.

"Yes. I am. And I need to see her," he lied firmly. The nurse chewed her bottom lip nervously.

"The doctor has only just finished seeing her. I don't know if I – there's a firm chance she won't wake up. It's not something you want to see," she stammered out.

"I need to know where she is. Just give me a number, a floor, a ward, _anything,_" he demanded.

"She – She's in room 13C. It's the next floor up. But you can't go in, she's not good. There's not much more they can do at this stage, it's just a waiting and hoping game now, sir. You really shouldn't –" she tried to explain, but George was already storming down the hallway and to the elevators.

"George! Have you found out anything?" he heard Howl call. Behind him Eli was pushing Antoinette's wheelchair.

"I found her room number. But I'm not allowed in," he replied as calmly as he could.

"What are you going to do?"

"I – I don't know. But take Antoinette and Eli back. I'll text them when I find out anything, it would be useless for them to come up," he said calmly. "No, Antoinette, Howl is right. No matter what happens to Emilia, it's not worth risking your son to try and see her. You have a responsibility to your child, and I will _not_ let you ignore that responsibility," he said firmly, when Toni was about to object. "And Eli, there's nothing you can do upstairs. Try to find out where Marianne is, get Nellie to help you. I'll let you know the moment I hear anything about Emilia," he added to the younger girl.

"Good luck," Howl said sincerely to his friend. George nodded, and stepped into the elevator. The second the doors opened the next floor up, he stormed out of them in search for the room 13C. He stopped when he passed 12C to realise that it was a closed ward. The door was shut and the blinds were drawn inside the room.

"Are you family?" came a short, sharp question the moment he moved to open the door. He turned to see a short and angry looking nurse glaring at him.

"She's my –"

"We don't accept boyfriends."

"Do you accept husbands?" he retorted, making sure his left hand was not visible. The nurse muttered something in an annoyed tone and walked away. He pulled the door open and stepped inside as soon as she was gone.

There was no blood in her face or lips; she was as white as paper and as frail as anything he had ever seen. She'd lost weight, and looked sallow and weakened in her pale pink, starchy hospital gown. There was a gash on the side of her temple and a few bruises, probably caused by the fall, but he was no idiot. People couldn't be that pale for no reason. Lips shouldn't be tinged with blue when they were normally so full of colour.

She was connected to several machines and had something that looked like a giant white clothes pin on her finger, and some sort of IV in her arm. She was covered in warm blankets and the heating in the room had been turned right up. He watched blood zip out of a tube in her arm, around in several loops and turns, and through some machine that warmed it, before going back in again. He'd heard about it before – blood was heated and then returned to the body. But as he understood, it was only for desperate situations.

"Oh God, oh, Emi," he breathed sadly, stepping forwards. Each step seemed to take a hundred years to him when she sat so very still, so very... cold. It was worse than seeing her in the hospital after the car accident. Even then he felt like his heart was in his throat, and she only suffered a few bumps and bruises. But _this_... this was real life. This was different. Serious.

How could he have left? How could he have been so _stupid_ as to leave her, when she so clearly needed him? He'd sat alone in his father's old estate staring at photos and wishing he could just disappear into the earth. He felt too disgusting to even be near her, after he'd so readily believed that she was capable of hurting Jane. But regardless, it was still clear, she'd made her decision, she wanted _Frank_.

And now the bastard had broken her heart. He wanted to rip him into pieces to make him pay for what he did to her, to his precious, beautiful Emilia.

And now there was a chance she might be dying. He didn't want to think the worst – but it was all he _could_ think when she lay so still so pale. He was going to lose her, and he couldn't remember ever even having her. He felt himself collapsing into the chair by her bedside and leaning with his elbows and head on the bed, shaking with silent sobs.

It wasn't fair! It wasn't _fair_ that he was going to lose the most important person in his life because of some stupid fall on a cold day. Why did _she_ deserve to die? Why did _she_ have to pay for other people's mistakes?

"Wake up! Wake _up!_" he commanded her form desperately, reaching for her hand and squeezing it tightly, as if it could magically bring her to consciousness.

"George."

He looked up with fearful eyes full of unspent tears. Howl stood by the doorway. He shook his head.

"You can't do this to yourself. It's not going to help anyone," he said softly.

"I don't _want_ to help anyone, I want her to wake up and be alright. What's so wrong about that? Don't we deserve to be happy, after all we've gone through?" he questioned wildly. Howl sighed, and stepped forwards.

"I know you do. But sometimes life isn't fair that way," he reminded him gently, one strong hand pausing his actions as George tried to crawl atop the bed with Emilia.

"I didn't even get to tell her how I feel. And I didn't get to apologise for what I did to her," he choked out brokenly.

"George, I think we need to go tell the others what's happening. How serious this is. They'll want to – they'll want to know," Howl suggested quietly, as if he knew himself just how bad the situation was.

"I can't leave her. I want to be here at the e – the –"

"I know. But it'll make no difference. There's no grand explosion or flashing lights. It's black and white, George. And it's not something you should see," he discouraged quietly, helping his friend to his feet. "We'll come back in a few minutes. But for now, we need to keep people updated," he said calmly. George nodded, and slowly walked out of the room, hazarding the slightest of glances over his shoulder to see her lying still, cold and unconscious.

They were silent in the elevator. They were silent in the hall. They were silent when they walked into the waiting room, where everyone was still assembled.

"Uhh... it's – it's not good," George murmured weakly as everyone took in his ashen face. "There – there's a fair chance she won't wake up, the nurse said. We can only hope," he added quietly.

"No."

"Eli, please –"

"_NO_," she cried angrily, tears springing forth immediately from her dark eyes. William, with his whitened face and shaking hands pulled his wife as closely to his chest as he could. She beat against him with weak but angry limbs, before succumbing to the sobs that she had been holding in. She shook with tears against him and he smoothed back her hair, fighting tears himself. "It's not _fair_! It's not _FAIR_!" she cried angrily.

Nellie immediately turned her back to face away from the crowd. Char reached for Richard's hand and their knuckles both whitened with the force of their hold. Henrietta was for the first time, without words, and even Frank and Jane had the decency to look upset as Taylor let out a cry of anguish.

"H – Howl," Toni stammered, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Howl, I –" she tried to continue, before he immediately moved forwards to kneel before her, his forehead pressed against her stomach and her head bowed to rest against his as she sobbed uncontrollably.

"George, are you alright?" Jane asked delicately, stepping forwards to her former lover. He shook his head in stony silence.

"H – How would you feel if the one person you love more than anything else you could possibly imagine was – was lying in a hospital bed with tubes sticking out of her, and could be dying at this very moment?" he retorted with quiet, radiating anger. "And if in the last months of her life, you were practically torn away from her by some jealous, bitter ex who made it her mission to bring pain and suffering on her and those around her? Don't you think for even a minute, Jane, I'll _ever_ forget what you've done," he swore vehemently. Jane lowered her eyes in shame and turned away.

"Your mother is on her way. How's Marianne?" a breathless Christopher questioned anxiously, running into the room.

"She's going to get better, they said. She's not awake yet, but her fever's broken," Nellie sniffled out. Christopher gave a relieved sigh before looking around the room at all the devastated faces.

"Oh God. Not Emilia?" he asked softly. George cleared his throat.

"They don't think – we have to wait," he replied as calmly as he could. "I should be getting back there, actually. I'll come fetch you if... anything happens," he muttered finally, before turning heel, and leaving the waiting room. He wiped the tears from his eyes in the elevator as he waited to reduce the distance between them. He stepped in her room, expecting the worst.

Frail arms were pushing against the edge of the bed in a weak attempt to rise to her feet. Her legs dangled over the edge helplessly as she slid further, trying to put weight on one. Seeing her conscious, alive, awake; his breathing quickened until it felt like his heart was running a million miles an hour, his chest heaving and more tears coming to his dark eyes. In an instant she'd seen him, and made to increase her efforts to move to him, and he rushed forwards, catching her in his arms and pulling her tightly to his chest as she stumbled forwards. He held her so tightly it was as if he never intended on letting her free, so tightly one could hardly tell where _he_ ended and _she_ began. She began to cough violently, and he immediately moved to lay her on the bed, where she continued her rasping attack of coughs.

"Nurse! Nurse!" he cried loudly when specks of blood appeared on the pillowcase. Emilia took one deep, rasping breath and thrashed her head violently. He tried to hold her down as she nearly pulled the IV from her arm. Her skin was clammy and covered in a thin layer of sweat, but burning hot. His heart, which had one second ago been lightened, grew once more as heavy as a stone. She continued to cough and thrash around violently, her skin growing hotter with every passing second, and she seemed insensibly to the world.

"I'm sorry sir, but you have to leave now," the short, grumpy looking nurse declared firmly when she came into the room.

"But, but she's –"

"Get _out_. You can wait outside," she ordered fiercely, practically pushing him out of the room. The door closed with a slam.

Was it a good sign? Did it mean she was going to be okay? The nurse said she didn't think she would wake up – did it mean she had been wrong? That Emilia was going to be okay?

He desperately hoped so.

He sat on the floor outside her room in silence as people ran in and out. His eyes were closed and his knees pulled up to his chin as he desperately prayed to a God he had never really considered. He begged whatever higher power he could name to help her, to save her, to give her back to him after she was taken so cruelly from beneath his nose.

_Please... please don't let me lose her. She's done nothing wrong. She doesn't deserve this. I don't deserve this. Don't take her from me, PLEASE don't take her from me_.

Howl joined him an hour later with a cup of disgusting coffee. He was still no closer to hearing anything about how she was when Howl left a good half hour later to carry the news back to the waiting room.

"Please. Tell me something. _Anything_," he begged the nurse who next left the room. She sighed, and finally acknowledged him.

"It's bad, but not as bad as we thought. She's gone feverish very suddenly, which isn't a good sign, but we won't know if it's very serious or just a simple fever until she's woken up," she explained. "_If_ she wakes up," she added meaningfully.

"What are her chances?"

"Well, she's gotten this far, so reasonable, I'd say. You'll be here a while though, if you're waiting for her to regain consciousness," she added. George nodded.

"That's alright. I'm staying here as long as she is," he said with conviction. The nurse sighed.

"I can get you a pillow and a blanket, but you'll have to sleep in the chair," she informed him. He nodded.

"I read somewhere that it helps if a healthy person sleeps beside a feverish one to regulate their body temperature," he recalled suddenly. The nurse rolled her eyes.

"It's not hospital procedure," she retorted.

"If it could help, I don't give a damn. I'll buy your bloody hospital and make new procedures. I'll pay you whatever you want. Money is not an issue," he said firmly. The nurse glanced at his Diesel jeans, slightly rumpled Armani jacket, and Rolex watch.

"I'm afraid I don't accept bribes. But just as long as I don't see anything on my rounds, I won't ask questions," she said finally. He nodded.

"Thank you."

"You can go in as soon as the doctor is finished. He'll only be a few more minutes," she added, before finally leaving. George hastily headed to the elevator to give the news to those in the waiting room.

"It'd be best if you went home. Her chances are a bit better, but there probably won't be much change for a while. Antoinette, you need to rest," he sighed, turning to the young woman. It suddenly struck him how young Antoinette really was, how small and frail and vulnerable she looked sitting in a wheelchair with an eight-month-pregnant belly. She suddenly looked no older than the sixteen-year-old immigrant he'd greeted at the London airport with Emilia. She was only twenty-three and still looked so lost and weak.

"I want to be here when she wakes up," she muttered firmly.

"Sweetheart, George is right. You have to rest. There's nothing more we can do here," Howl reminded his wife.

"We're going back to Pemberley too. Eli's making herself sick like this," William decided, glancing towards his wife, who was pacing nervously, her skin pallid and her eyes wide.

"I want to stay here."

"Elizabeth, please. For me. I'm tired, and I just want to have some time alone with Emilia. I promise to call you if anything happens," George begged. She bit her lip, before finally nodded.

"Alright. But you _have_ to promise to call me if anything happens. I want to know right away," she said firmly.

"Of course. Everyone else should go back to Pemberley. I'll keep you posted," he promised.

"I'm staying here," Nellie said instantly.

"Where's Christopher?"

"He's with Marianne. She woke up a few minutes ago, and he really wanted to see her. I'm waiting for Mum to arrive," she explained. George nodded, before turning back to Howl and Toni.

"You guys had better go. All of you."

"William, please take the girls out to the car. I'll be there in a minute. Make sure everyone can get back to Pemberley alright," Howl requested, turning to his son-in-law, who nodded, and took the handles for Antoinette's wheelchair as the others rose from their seats and followed him.

"You need to get Antoinette in bed and make her stay there. She's looking bad, Howl," George instructed. Howl sighed, and nodded.

"I know. I'm worried. The doctors said that Polliwog is doing well and he's getting strong, but she's too weak to give birth right now. I'm trying to talk her into a C-section," he explained. "All this stress has just made things worse. If she went into labour now she probably wouldn't survive. I'm not worried about Polliwog, he's almost fully developed. _She's_ not doing so well," he added.

"She can't come visit the hospital again. She shouldn't even get out of bed. If think anything – if anything bad happens, we should wait until after the birth to tell her. It's too much of a risk otherwise," George suggested quietly.

"I don't know how we'd be able to hide it from her. But if we could, I'd prefer to," he agreed.

"And there's something else," George admitted finally. Howl raised a brow.

"What is it?"

"Her father. Émile," he answered with slight hesitation. "He hung himself two years ago. That's why you haven't heard from him," he explained.

"Oh. Well – we can't tell her," Howl muttered obviously, running a hand through his light brown hair and sighing. "I don't like keeping secrets from her. Not when it's done us so much damage before, but... It's too much of a risk. We just have to wait," he muttered.

"You okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I only met the man once or twice, and he was trying to castrate me at the time, along with Martine, so I don't think we were that close," he shrugged.

"He – _what_?" George exclaimed. Howl gave another shrug.

"Something you didn't know about, I guess. Martine came home early from a trip to Paris to see her father and Antoinette and I were at her place," he explained simply.

"Ah. And I take it you weren't playing board games?"

"Well, I guess we could have pretended we were playing Twister, but we didn't have the funny wheel with all the colours on it," he said thoughtfully. "Anyway, Martine released the full force of her relatives on me, and that included Émile. That's why Antoinette moved out of home before she finished her A-Levels," he explained. George gave a small snigger, before it turned into a sigh.

"I'm going to spend the night here. I'll call if anything happens," he swore. Howl nodded.

"Make sure you do. If you need me, I'll just be a ten minutes drive away. And don't be afraid to need me, I've seen you cry before, George, so I'm not going to get freaked out," he added with a small, comforting smile. George nodded.

"I'm going back now. Take care of Antoinette for me. I'm pretty attached to that kid, you know," he requested.

"As am I. I'll see you later then," he nodded, before turning away to find his family. George sighed, and moved back towards the elevators.

By the time he arrived back in her room, the doctor was gone, and one of the large machines had disappeared. She still looked feverish, but a great deal calmer. Her breathing was shallow and pained, but she at least looked alive.

He crawled in bed beside her and rested his head on her shoulder, like he did when she was crawl into his bed in the middle of the night. And then, pretending that it was just like it always was, he allowed himself to fall into sleep.

**A/N: Ahh, angst. What I'm known for, it seems. Anyway, not long yet!**

**(oh, and for the record, I'm not a doctor, and know nothing about medical stuff, other than what I've learnt from M*A*S*H*, which is where I got my information on this from. Sorry if I'm incorrect :S )**


	31. Of Awakenings and Admissions

"_Scratching at the surface now,  
And I'm trying hard to figure out,  
So much has gone misunderstood,  
And this mystery only leads to doubt...  
And I didn't understand, when you reached out to take my hand,  
And if you have something to say, you'd better say it now..."  
_ -Glen Hansard, 'Say it to me Now'

George awoke to the clinical sounds one would find in a hospital. The beeps of a life support system somewhere down the hall, the rattling of gurneys past the door and the light conversation of doctors, nurses and patients who all wished they could be somewhere else.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and cracking his neck, which was stiff from the odd angle he slept on it the night before.

He gave a relieved sigh to see that she had regained some colour and was no longer thrashing around in discomfort. He checked his watch. It had been a good six or seven hours since he must have fallen asleep.

"Good morning, sir. Did you sleep here last night?" a chirpy nurse greeted, one that he hadn't seen before. She glanced at the chair, which had a blanket and a pillow sitting on it that the night nurse had promised.

"Hmm. Didn't want to leave her," he muttered, running a hand through his dark hair.

"That's rather sweet. How is she this morning?" she questioned, checking the chart.

"Got a bit more colour, she seems a lot better," he answered simply, falling back in the chair with a tired sigh.

"Well that's good. I have to change the sheets, reapply dressing on a few cuts and bumps, and just a few other things, sir. Would you mind leaving the room? You look like you could use some tea," she commented. He sighed, and nodded, straightening out his rumpled clothes. "If you live nearby you could go home and have a quick shower and something to eat, if you'd like. I'll probably be a while, and I don't think she'd miss you," she added.

"Of course. That's probably for the best. I'll be back soon," he assured her, before leaving the room. He headed down to the carpark and to the car he'd rented which still had all his luggage in the back. He drove the ten minutes to Pemberley in silence, before parking just outside and taking a change of clothes and his toothbrush in with him.

"Oh, hey. Everything alright?" he was greeted by William when he was let into the house by Mrs Reynolds.

"She's better. The nurse kicked me out for half an hour or so, I thought I'd have a shower and change, keep you guys informed," he explained. William nodded.

"Of course. So she's not woken up yet?" he questioned. George shook his head.

"No, not yet. But like I said, she looks better, so hopefully... her chances are better than last night. It was too early to really know anything, but I think the fever broke, so we just have to wait a little longer," he informed him.

"Well, that's better than we were expecting. Eli slept terribly last night. She kept on trying to sneak out to go back to the hospital," he sighed. "And from what I've heard from Howl, Toni was even worse. He's pretty sure that with all that stress last night that it'll be any day now. He wants to take her back to London," he explained.

"It'd be the best thing for her. As soon as we know what's going on with Emilia I'd suggest he do so."

"You'd better go have a shower and get changed. You look terrible," William commented. George rolled his eyes. "Come on, I'm just being honest. I'll make sure there's some coffee and breakfast ready for you when you're done. Just make sure you go to the kitchens and don't forget it, okay?" he added.

"I'm starving, so I doubt I _could_ forget. Would you be able to get some of Emilia's things that she might need? If she wakes up soon I want her to be comfortable," he requested.

"Howl already got Eli to do that last night. There's a bag on her bed. I can go grab it if you'd –"

"No, I'll do it. She's in her usual room?" he questioned, to which Will nodded. "Alright. I'll have a shower and get some breakfast. Thanks for that, Will," he finished, before moving to the stairs.

"Just make sure you look after yourself. It'd be bad luck for Emilia to wake up and you'd starved yourself to death," he commented with a nod, before returning to the kitchens.

After a quick shower and brush of his teeth, George ducked into Emilia's room to fetch her bag. He glanced around. It was ridiculously neat, and he doubted it was because of the maids. Normally when Emilia's room was uncommonly neat, it meant she was upset about something. He sighed, and picked the bag up from her bed.

He spotted a pile of gifts on the old fashioned writing desk that hadn't been opened. By the looks of the different kinds of wrapping paper, they weren't presents from her, but rather presents _to_ her that she'd not opened.

He hadn't opened any presents either. He'd been _sent_ them from just about everyone he knew, but they were all unopened in the back of his rental car. They'd never spent a Christmas apart since she was born – he hadn't wanted to open them without her.

He swung the bag over his shoulder and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

"Hey. You going back to the hospital?" Howl questioned when he walked in.

"Yeah. She's a bit better. I just needed to have a shower and grab her stuff. Hopefully she'll be awake by the time I get back," he shrugged, taking a sip of the coffee and a mouthful of toast.

"Grab that and I'll drive. I can't stay long, but I'd still like to see her," he said. George nodded, and picked up the plate of toast and cup of coffee, and they headed out to the car.

The nurse was just finishing up by the time he got to her room, and the sheets and her gown had both been replaced. She looked better; the nurse had probably sponged her down, which helped her temperature.

"But there's something that I have to talk to you about, sir," the nurse said, glancing at the bed to check Emilia was still sleeping. She then turned to Howl, the unfamiliar man.

"She's my wife's cousin. We're very close," he assured her. She nodded, and then turned back to George.

"Has Miss –"

"Emilia. Her name is Emilia."

"Has Emilia been acting strangely recently? Have you noted any mood swings or unusual behaviour? Any... well, any bad days?" she questioned slowly. George blinked in surprise.

"Uhh... I don't think so, she's been normal, I suppose," he shrugged, glancing to Howl, who suddenly looked very grave.

"George, I don't think you want to hear this," he said quietly. George frowned.

"What are you talking about?"

"Where were they?" Howl asked the nurse calmly.

"Her thighs and hips," she answered. Howl nodded, his face paling.

"What the hell does that mean? Is she sick?" George demanded angrily.

"Usually we don't report it if they're visible. But in this case –"

"I know what has to be done," he assured her quite seriously. The nurse nodded.

"Howl, if you're trying to freak me out then this is a very good way to do it," George hissed to his friend when the nurse excused herself. Howl was staring at the unmoving figure lying in the hospital bed with a pained expression on his face.

"I think... well, I know now. I suspected it before but... she's been hurting herself, George. That's what the nurse meant. She must have seen bruises or scars when she was changing her gown," he informed him gravely.

"Wh – _What_? She's been –"

"It's a distraction. When emotional stress gets to a point where it's just unbearable, it's a way of finding... relief," he explained quietly, still staring at the young woman lying in bed in silence.

"Isn't it a – a cry for help, or something? Attention?" George questioned desperately. Howl sighed.

"Normally. When the scars are visible, like on the wrists. But usually the thighs and hips... it's when you don't want help. It's when you don't want anyone to know but you still need to find some way of escaping the pain," he said softly, reaching for his friend's shoulder. "Her family has a history of depression. Émile and Martine both had a lot of problems. George, she needs help," he said quietly. George shook his head firmly.

"No. It's from the fall. There's been a mistake. She wouldn't," he insisted, and he genuinely believed it.

"Trust me, George, from a man who has been hurting himself since he was old enough to walk, there's a difference between accidental scars and ones that were put there on purpose. And the nurse probably has a lot of experience recognising those scars – she did this to herself," he said calmly.

"No. I've seen her wearing the smallest shorts you could imagine, there's no way I could miss them."

"George, if Emilia is –"

"Well she's _not_, this is a ridiculous mistake. Now you have a wife that you need to go look after, and I have to look after Emilia," he finished sharply. Howl sighed.

"Ask her about them. And call me later when she wakes up," he instructed. George nodded.

"Fine. But you're wrong," he assured him calmly. Howl sighed, and left the room. George watched him go before he placed the bag on the end of her bed and collapsed back into the chair with a long, slow sigh.

Just as he was about to fall back to sleep, confident that Howl was wrong, he heard a small mumble come from the bed, and the sound of someone shifting slightly beneath starchy sheets. He shot up in the chair immediately.

"Emilia? Emi, are you awake? Please, bub, please talk to me," he begged, speaking in a loud, clear voice, reaching for her hand. She groaned, and rolled over. Her eyes fluttered open, and seemed to take an age to focus on his face.

"George..." she croaked out painfully, wincing as she moved once more. He thought his heart might just explode with happiness.

"Thank God. Thank _God_ you're alive," he breathed, taking her other hand in his and holding it tightly. He felt tears well up in his eyes, the emotion of the past few months catching up with him.

"George," she repeated quietly, frowning slightly as she took him in. He watched her eyes move from his face to take in the room she had awoken in. "Where –"

"You're in the hospital, sweetheart. It's okay. I'm going to take care of you. Everything is going to be fine," he assured her gently, almost frantically running his hands over her cheeks and jaw, as if to confirm her existence. Her hazy eyes returned to his face.

"You left," she managed to get out.

"I'm back now, and I'm never leaving again. Nothing is going to take me away from you again," he assured her softly. "How are you feeling?" he questioned, softly stroking her tiny hands.

"Mm. Tired. H – How is Marianne?" she questioned with a yawn, attempting to sit up.

"No, don't move. Marianne is fine. They found her not far from you, and they got her here in time. And you're going to be fine too," he answered. She looked slightly surprised, but nodded rather shakily.

"How long have I –"

"Since yesterday afternoon. I spoke to a nurse a few minutes ago, she says you'd developed some hypothermia from staying out in the cold so long, and pneumonia is to be expected too, but they think you're going to be okay," he informed her gently. She nodded.

"I'm tired," she said quietly.

"Oh, uh, yes. Of course," he muttered with slight disappointment, releasing her hands. "You try to get some sleep. I'll be right here if you need me," he muttered. She gave another weak nod, and settled back into the bed, closing her eyes and falling into sleep.

George pulled out his phone and immediately called Howl to tell him of the good news.

"I just got home. The girls will be relieved," he sighed. "Did you ask her about –"

"No. She needed sleep. And I know what the answer is going to be, anyway. She didn't do it on purpose," he insisted firmly. Howl gave an exasperated sort of sound.

"Alright. But I need to talk to her all the same."

"When Antoinette's got a bit more energy you should swing by the hospital to see her. Then you can go back to London," he advised.

"That would be for the best. We had another argument again last night. I called her doctor to schedule a C-section in just over three weeks. She thinks I'm being too controlling," he explained with a sigh.

"Is she awake?"

"Yeah. Did you want to talk to her?"

"Please."

"Alright, give me a minute," Howl requested. Thirty seconds later he was greeted with Antoinette's questioning voice.

"How is she? What's going on?" she asked anxiously.

"She's much better. She woke up and I managed to speak to her for a few minutes before she fell asleep again. I think she's going to be fine," he informed her. She gave a relieved sigh.

"Thank God. I've been so worried," she murmured.

"I know. Love, it's not good for your little boy. You were told by the doctor not to leave bed at all, and you're spending more time out of it than in," he said sternly.

"I know, but I don't want to leave Emilia. She's family," she objected.

"And your son is family too. You need to do whatever Howl and the doctor say to keep him healthy. And going back to London is what needs to be done for him. You shouldn't be angry at Howl for arranging that C-section, he's worried about you, love. He just wants to be sure that you're going to okay," he reminded her. She gave another sigh.

"I know. George, I'm really scared. I didn't think about the birth, I've not really... suddenly it seems so real. I'm going to have a baby. I'm so – so terrified," she confessed weakly.

"Which is why the C-section is the best idea, Antoinette. You'll go to sleep and when you wake up your son will be waiting to meet you," he explained.

"It seems like you're always stopping me from doing stupid things, George," Toni sighed. He gave a soft smile.

"Hey, I just want to make sure my Godson gets to this planet happy and healthy. So go back to London, tell Eli and Darcy to get on the plane for their honeymoon, and everything here is going to be alright. I'll keep you updated, but it looks like she's going to be fine," he assured her.

"Thank you, George. I've been so worried about her."

"Well, the poor little thing needs someone to worry about her," he chuckled. "And don't get angry at Howl. He loves you so much, kiddo. He's just trying to help you," he added.

"I know. You'd better get back to my cousin. I'll see if I can convince Howl to let us drop in on the way to London –"

"Only if you agree to sleep the rest of the trip, and don't leave your bed until it's time for Polliwog to make his appearance," he said sternly. Toni laughed.

"You and Howl are terrible. Will, too. You're all terribly protective."

"Can you do one thing for me?" he requested suddenly. "Tell Howl that I want them gone. He knows who I mean. I want them gone and I never want them to go anywhere near us ever again, because if I see them I can't trust myself on what I'm going to do," he said quite seriously.

"I know you mean Frank and Jane. And they're already gone. No one's told you?" she questioned in surprise.

"No, what happened?"

"They've been thrown out. Howl and William took their bags and tossed them out the window and told them never to come back to England ever again. Even James threw a suitcase out. And Eli found Emilia's phone in Frank's dresser. They staged the whole thing," she explained.

"What about Henrietta?"

"She did a lot of crying, but she refused to speak to Jane. Richard tried to spit on Frank and Char nearly punched him, but Howl beat him to it. If you didn't break his nose yesterday then Howl certainly finished the job off. He's really scary when he's angry, so I don't think they'll ever be coming back," she continued. "And now that Frank's Aunt passed away he's just inherited a huge fortune. He can be with Jane if he wants, he doesn't have her to control him. Apparently their plan was for Frank to make Emilia fall for him and get her to go against you, but when Jane got too jealous of the way he was acting to her they changed their plan. They wanted to make her look like a horrible person so _everyone_, including you, hated her. The past six months has just been some big game to try and rip you two apart," she explained.

"Well they nearly succeeded," George muttered quietly.

"But _why_? What did Emi ever do to Jane?" she questioned incredulously. George sighed.

"When Jane and I broke up, it was because I told her I didn't want to go through with the wedding. She demanded I tell her why, and I confessed. I told her that I've always been in love with Emilia, and I used her to try and get over my feelings. I lied to her, Toni. I hurt her. Jane didn't break my heart. I never even loved her," he admitted quietly. Toni gasped quietly. "So in Jane's mind, it's all Emilia's fault that she was heartbroken and humiliated. _I_ should have been the one that had to pay, not Emi. Never Emi," he added softly.

"We all thought –"

"I know what you thought. I didn't correct you because I just didn't want to talk about it. There's nothing more to it. I was ashamed and I couldn't face it. If I'd only been honest, perhaps none of this would have happened," he sighed.

"I don't judge you, George. I hurt Valerie because of Howl. I understand that sometimes it seems like the only way," she replied. "But you have to tell her how you feel. You _have_ to, George, after all that's happened. She'll find out somehow, and if it came from you she'd be able to understand," she urged him.

"I know. I _know_, I have to tell her. I can't take it anymore," he muttered.

"So? Will you?"

"Maybe. Antoinette, I don't know. Maybe, if she can forgive me. I'll see," he sighed finally. "I'd better get back to her, and you need to get some more rest. I'll keep you updated," he promised.

"You're a good person, George Knightley. You're a good man."

George closed his eyes and released a long slow breath.

"We'll see," he sighed, before he hung up, and slid his phone back into his pocket.

When he returned to the room, Emilia lay with her eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

"Hey. Couldn't get to sleep?" he questioned with a comforting smile. She glanced to him and shook her head.

"Not really," she murmured.

"Well, uh, I got a bag for you from your room back at Pemberley. I didn't pack it, but hopefully it can help you get a bit more comfortable," he said, gesturing to the end of her bed.

"Thank you."

"It'll get easier, Emi. Time heals a lot of things. I know it doesn't seem like it now, but you'll move on," he said softly. She glanced to him with a slight frown. "They've gone back to America. We'll never see them again. I don't know which one I pity the most – they've both monsters," he muttered, sitting on the edge of her bed and reaching for her hand comfortingly.

"You've got it all wrong, George. I don't care about them," she interrupted him suddenly. His eyes widened in shock.

"What?"

"I don't care about either of them. I never loved Frank, I hardly even liked him. I don't give a damn anymore," she explained. "I – I _liked_ being around Frank, because he made me feel... well, he flattered me. My ego loved it too much for me to forget him. I've always known he was a bit of a prat, but I just didn't care," she muttered ashamedly. "He's used me, but he's not hurt me," she assured him. "You look angry," she observed quietly.

"I am," George answered, his tone quiet, but radiating with annoyance as he glared at nothing in particular. "Because that – that _monster_ has everything work out for him. He's adopted by some rich relative and gets every whim paid for, he meets some woman and she falls in love with him, his Aunt is in the way of their relationship, his Aunt _dies_ with so much convenience that I wouldn't be surprised if the bastard knocked her off himself, and suddenly you're ready to ignore all the pain he's caused you!" he cried furiously. "Meanwhile, our lives have practically been destroyed because of him, and now we have to pick up the pieces!" he continued, lowering his voice when he realised how angry he sounded.

"You sound like you're jealous of him," she muttered.

"In some ways, Emilia, I _am_. Things just work out for that man. Things don't – things don't work out for me with such ease," he said bitterly. "And I guess you don't want to hear about it," he mumbled, when she said nothing. "Why do you even need to hear it? Of course you know. How can you have not seen it? You're a lot smarter than you let on, Emilia Woodhouse. It can't exactly have gone over your head," he pointed out after another moment of silence.

"No. I'm not smart. If I were I would have known what they were trying to do. I'd never have let them do what they did," she said simply.

"No one could have known, Em."

"_You _did. You suspected. Months ago you warned me, and I didn't listen. I guess you were proved right. I wish I'd listened, but it seems like I was doomed to be stupid," she muttered quietly. George softly stroked her hand.

"You're not stupid. Why do you have to talk like that? He didn't hurt you, you said so yourself. Don't be upset over those two, they're gone now, and we'll never have to deal with them again," he assured her with a gentle voice. She gave a small, bitter laugh.

"I'm not upset because – no. It doesn't matter," she stopped herself, sinking back into the bed and pulling her legs up beneath her chin.

"Hey. Smile for me, please. You're always so strong, you can take this," he said firmly.

"I'm sick of being strong. Please, George, I don't want to talk anymore. I'm glad you came all the way from Switzerland or wherever you were to see me, but I'm fine," she dismissed him shortly. He frowned slightly, and lowered his head.

"I see. So this is my punishment?" he questioned with quiet coolness.

"No. This is _mine_."

"I left because I wanted to give you space. I wanted to take myself out of the picture so you could come to terms with what you felt about Frank. I didn't know you didn't love him. I didn't _want_ to leave, Em, but you didn't give me much else choice. I did it for you," he said softly, trying to reach for her hand.

"But you _did_! You _did_ leave, even though you didn't want to! If I've been foolish then those were my mistakes, and _I'm_ paying for them. But I didn't ask you to leave, you left of your own choosing, George," she snapped angrily. "So now you're being cruel to me for the sake of cruelty. What did I do to deserve losing you? I acknowledged my mistakes, I paid for them, I even tried to pay for something that I didn't do –"

"I didn't _ask_ you to confess to it if you hadn't done it!"

"You didn't believe me! You were prepared to think the worst of me! So if you think this is a punishment, then you deserve it just as much as I do," she declared. "They might have tried to tear us apart, but nothing in this world could have parted us but _your_ actions. _You_ left_ me_, but _I_ won't punish you for it! You're not sharing my pain – you can go find some of your own. If you feel guilty then you can't blame it on me," she finished, turning away from him in her small hospital bed.

"I don't want to fight, Em. I can't take any more arguments," he muttered, placing a soft hand on her shoulder.

"Well I can't take ignoring what I feel anymore. I can't take pretending any longer," she snapped.

"Fine. Do you want this to be it? _The _argument? Last night I didn't even know if you were even going to – I don't _want_ to fight. Not today. It's still too painful," he insisted.

"I woke up."

"What?"

"When I fell. It was dark and I couldn't see anything. I thought Marianne had gone to find help or something. I didn't know she was still there. I woke up, and I could have tried to get up, but I didn't. I stayed there because I didn't _want_ to try and save myself," she muttered. "Now you try to call me strong, and see if you can do it. You try to look at yourself as the weak one, the one in pain, and see if it still fits," she threw in his face bitterly. Her eyes were cold and filled with unspent tears.

George stood up immediately and pulled the door open to the small bathroom in the one person ward, and immediately bent over the sink, throwing up the contents of his stomach. He was shaking – _visibly_ shaking with the knowledge that she'd as good as tried to kill herself. It confirmed Howl's suspicions, she'd been cutting herself.

When had it started? _Why_? Why would such a precious, wonderful girl want to do that to herself?

He wiped his mouth and held his face under the tap to cleanse the taste of bile in his throat, before he stormed out of the bathroom. Emilia sat up on the bed, with an expression of complete loss and misery. He immediately pulled the blanket down – and there they were.

They were so new that they hadn't even become scars. Some of them could only be a month old at the most. There were several and ran along the tops of her thighs. There could have been more a little further up, but she immediately pulled the blankets up.

"The nurse was right. Howl was right. You've been cutting yourself," he muttered incredulously.

"It has nothing to do with you," she insisted firmly.

"And your hip? How many are there, Emilia? How many times have you cut yourself _there_?" he snapped angrily.

"For Christ sake, you nearly topped yourself with heroin, you're in no position to judge me," she threw back. He sighed.

"I'm clean now. I realised how much it was destroying me and how it was hurting those around me! And I _never_ tried to kill myself, Emilia. Why would you – why would you _do_ that?" he questioned desperately.

"I didn't try to kill myself! It – it just helped a little. It was like the heroin to you when you were a teenager. I knew it was bad for me, but... it stopped me thinking about things for a while," she admitted. "And what do you care? Go on; insult me like you always do. I'm past caring now," she snapped, turning her head away from him.

"Em, I care because... because you're the most important person in the world to me, and if I – if I lost you I don't know what I'd do," he muttered softly. "Just tell me _why_. Tell me why you would do this to yourself?" he demanded.

But before he could get a response, he was interrupted by the ward door opening and Antoinette and Howl immediately appearing in the room. Antoinette pulled Emilia into a hug almost instantly, sitting on the edge of the bed with teary eyes.

"Don't you _dare_ do that to me again, Emilia Woodhouse!" she demanded angrily. Emilia gave a small laugh.

"I'm sorry. I promise I won't," she swore. Howl met George's eyes questioningly.

George nodded sadly, and it all became apparent. The men allowed them a few minutes conversation together before Howl announced that it was time to go. Antoinette reluctantly rose to her feet.

"George, would you mind taking her down to the car? I want a quick word with Emilia," he requested calmly. George nodded, and took Antoinette's arm, assisting her out of the room. He took his time taking her downstairs, and then coming back up to the ward.

When he returned, he hazarded a glance through the half-opened blinds in the room's window. Howl was sitting on the bed with a slightly teary Emilia, talking to her about something. She would nod every now and then, and say a few things. George sighed, and got himself a cup of tea from the machine just by her door as he waited. Finally Howl left the ward with a sigh.

"I think you need to talk to her, George. There's a lot more than I thought to it. She's –" he paused, and gave another sigh. "I wish I knew. But it's just another example of a problem that could be solved by just... being _honest_. Just talking to each other. You two have both done enough pretending," he said calmly.

"Does she hate me?"

"No. Not at all. You should go in. I need to get my wife back to Rosings Park," Howl sighed, clapping his friend on the back. "Good luck, and I'll see you soon," he said, before nodding, and heading down the hall to the elevators.

"Hi. How are you feeling?" he asked softly, stepping into her room once more. She shrugged.

"Okay, I guess."

"Uh, I made myself a cup of tea, but you look like you could use it more than I could," he commented, passing her the Styrofoam mug. She nodded, and sipped it gratefully, passing it back to him. He took a mouthful, and set it down on the bedside table. "So... are you ready to tell me why?" he asked gently.

"There are... a lot of reasons," she muttered.

"Does one of them involve your mother?" he found himself asking after a moment's silence. She lowered her eyes.

"Yes."

"And... does one of them involve me?" he asked, somewhat choked. She nodded again.

"A – A lot of them do," she confessed. He ran a hand through his dark hair.

"I saw my whole life disappearing right before my eyes and I – I was just so _angry_. And I was ashamed after the way I treated you, I should have believed you when you said you didn't send those text messages. That's part of the reason why I left. So I could lick my wounds," he muttered ashamedly.

"I know why you left. And if you want to talk to me about it, then I'll be your friend and listen. If you – if you want me, I'm here, and I'll understand," she said softly. George gave a bitter sort of laugh.

"A friend? Emilia, I don't want –" he stopped himself. "That's not what I want. And you _don't_ know why I left. If you did, then..." he trailed off, before shaking his head. "You know what, I've come too far already for you not to know. Just tell me once or for all, am I just hoping for something that's never going to happen?" he questioned desperately, meeting her eyes.

Emilia's breath caught in her throat, as if she couldn't believe what he was saying.

"Emilia, you – you mean _everything_ to me. And I call you 'bub' and 'sweetheart' and 'darling' because those are the things you _are_ to me. And I know you probably don't want what I want, but – but even so, I'll be here for you. I'll stick around and do my best to make you happy, even if it's not in the way that I want," he swore, sitting on the side of her bed and taking her hands in his. He raised one hand to cup her cheek softly. "I left because I couldn't stand seeing you with _him_, because I thought you loved him and I – I wanted you to be happy. That was all I wanted. It didn't mean that I didn't love you, it meant that I love you so much I – I'd sacrifice what _I _want just so you can get what you want, even if it's not me that you end up with," he confessed quietly. "What I want to know is – is if you could ever feel the same way, or should I just... should we just forget this ever happened?" he questioned, leaning forwards, and pressing his forehead against hers.

"You – you love me," she murmured softly. He nodded.

"God, Emilia, I don't even know if 'love' covers what I feel anymore. I don't think there's a word for how important you are to me," he replied earnestly.

"George, I –"

"I can understand if you don't feel what I feel. I mean, I'm a lot older than you, and I always seem to be the one that ends up hurting you. You don't have to."

"George, pl –"

"And this doesn't have to change our friendship. Our friendship is so much stronger than that, and I don't want to stop living with you."

"_George_! Shut up for a second," she instructed. He looked somewhat surprised at her outburst, but he was even more surprised when she leant forwards and pressed her lips against his.

He responded eagerly when the initial shock passed, running his hands through her hair, like he had always dreamed of doing. He pulled her close to his chest, until she was sitting atop his lap, and her arms wrapped around his neck.

He could hardly believe what was happening. After so many years of dreaming, hoping and wishing, he had finally told her the truth, and she didn't hate him, or think of him as completely disgusting.

_Eight years_. It was unimaginable.

After what felt like an age they pulled away from each other, both with shallow breaths and trembling hands.

"I love you too. And not just like a friend," she confessed.

"_Why_ did I wait to tell you for so long?" he questioned himself incredulously, toying with the ends of her blonde curls. "Oh, God, Emilia, I've wanted to tell you the truth for longer than I can even bear to think," he said. "Is this... part of the reason why –"

"Part. I didn't think you could ever – I was so certain that you just saw me as a ridiculous child. Nothing I did ever seemed to please you, and you would always let me know," she murmured.

"You mean – _I_ hurt you? _I_ made you do this?" he asked with a pronounced frown. She shrugged.

"You're the most important person to me in the world. It only matters to me what you say. I always thought I was too ugly and stupid and selfish for you," she admitted ashamedly.

"You're not stupid, and I know I _say_ you're selfish, but Em, you – you're not. You're nowhere near selfish, I misunderstood _everything_ these past six months," he objected. "And as to being ugly... you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Emilia Woodhouse. Everything about you is perfect, inside and out," he assured her, running his hand along her cheek, jaw and shoulder, giving a sharp intake of breath as he felt how smooth her ivory skin was. "So that's why you were so miserable. Because you thought that _I _thought all those horrible things about you," he muttered softly. She found herself nodding.

"You would always say those things. Ever since I was a little girl."

"I didn't want you to grow up spoilt and bratty, Em. And then, later, I didn't want you to – to know how I felt. It would give the game away if I confessed how beautiful I think you are," he explained apologetically. He pressed his forehead against hers once more. "Can you let me make it up to you? Please. Give me a lifetime and I promise to never hurt you again. I'll make up for my mistakes, I swear," he begged her softly.

"It's hard. It's hard to forgive you," she confessed, her voice weak and quiet. He wrapped his arms around her waist.

"You don't have to right away, but _please_, just... give me a second chance. Lord knows that I don't deserve it, but... Emilia, I won't be able to breathe again if you don't. Not when I'm so close to everything I've ever wanted," he pleaded.

After a moment's silence, she finally nodded.

"It was always too much for me. I could never understand what I felt for you, but I knew that you were more important to me than anyone else. I didn't want to think about what happened to Mum. I just – I couldn't. I did the same thing when you left, only this time it didn't work," she admitted when he asked what had finally snapped in her to make her think life wasn't worth living. "It was easier to never think about her. But with you... everything I saw reminded me of _you_. But I miss her, George. More than I've ever let myself miss her. I want her to be alive again, to make everything better," she wept into his chest. He gently soothed her, and stroked her back gently.

"You've got me. I know it's not much, but I can do my best to make things better," he assured her softly. "I know there's a lot to make up for. I never realised just how – how hurtful it was, the way I treated you. I was so concerned with making you a better person that I didn't realise how much pain it was causing you," he added ashamedly.

"Why did you leave? Why did you have to _go_? I just wanted you near me, I needed you," she said softly, beating a fragile arm against is chest. "I _needed_ you!" she cried forcefully. George sighed sadly, and tried to soothe her.

"Please, Emi, please, calm down," he begged her gently. She shook her head.

"You – you don't know how much it hurt me," she insisted. He pulled her tightly into his arms, stroking her long blonde curls. She gave a small sniffle. "I don't want this to be a dream. It doesn't feel... it doesn't feel real yet. Did you really kiss me? Do you really love me?" she questioned against his neck. He nodded, and pressed a small kiss to the top of her forehead.

"It's alright, Emi, sweetheart. I love you, and I know I left, but I'm not going to leave you again. I could _never_ – you have me at your command," he murmured with a small smile.

"I think I... I think I need a minute to just..." she said quietly. He nodded, and allowed her to pull away. She breathed deeply, running a hand through her hair, knees pulled up beneath her chin. He watched her with disbelief – she was finally _his_ to hold and kiss and love and treasure – now that he'd had a taste he could never stop. It wasn't like the kiss they shared on her eighteenth birthday, it held purpose and honesty and above all – love.

"My father died," he said suddenly. She looked up in surprise and question. He nodded, as if to confirm his statement. Her eyes suddenly filled with incredible sadness – sadness for _him_, not for herself, and she allowed him to pull her back into his arms. It was a little while before he spoke again. "Suddenly I couldn't – I felt_ lost_. I'd lost my Dad, _you_, I know I never really knew him as well as I would have liked, but... but he was my father. And I couldn't sit around watching you be happy with someone that I couldn't stand. It was destroying me," he muttered against her hair. "I loved him. He was my father, how could I not? But I refused to see him again after my sixteenth birthday – I never forgave him for leaving me and now it's too late," he continued with great regret.

"George, you can't... you can't regret this your whole life. If there's one thing I've learnt it's that you – you can't dwell in things," she said softly. He sighed, and nodded.

"I wish I'd gotten to say goodbye. To see him one last time. But at least... at least I'm never going to waste my life like he did," he shrugged, pulling her a little closer into his arms, and pressing a kiss to her lips. "How do you feel?" he asked finally. She shrugged.

"Physically I feel fine. A little tired and sore, but I just want to go home," she sighed.

"And... otherwise?" he questioned attentively. She paused before responding.

"This is so... it's like some sort of dream," she said when they broke apart. George laughed, stroking the sides of her face.

"In my dreams we're not in a hospital, but yeah, it's pretty close to what I was hoping for," he smiled, before sighing softly. "Can we just disappear? Can we go? I don't want to share you anymore. I've had enough," he requested against her neck as he pressed kisses to the sensitive skin beneath her earlobe.

"I need to be in Paris in ten days for the start of fashion week," she offered.

"Let's go to Paris. You and me. I don't want –" he sighed. "I don't want to wait around anymore. I've been doing that for too long," he insisted.

"No transitioning time then?" she questioned with a raised brow.

"Emilia, we've been _transitioning_ for years. I want _you_. All of you. I don't want to share you with anyone anymore. I just want it to be you and I so I can try and make up for the damage I've done," he sighed. "Let's just go back to London. We can leave for Paris tomorrow morning," he decided.

"I suspect they might want me to stay here a little longer, you know," she pointed out.

"Well I'll just have to make sure you spend plenty of time in bed," he decided, before blushing bright red when he realised what he'd said. "Oh. Fuck. Uhh – I didn't mean –"

Emilia interrupted him with muffled giggles as she buried her head in the crook of his shoulder.

"Oh God. You're so smooth, Don Juan," she laughed sarcastically. George rolled his eyes, and in one swift move shifted her so she was pinned back on the bed, his forehead pressed against hers, leaning on his elbows, which were positioned by either side of her head.

She stopped laughing.

"So. Who's smooth now?" he questioned cheekily, his dark eyes flashing playfully. She bit back a laugh by pressing her teeth against her bottom lip. "Please don't do that, or I might just violate the hospital regulations I've been warned about," he requested, eyes glued to her lips.

"What, biting my lip? You don't like that?" she questioned with a laugh.

"Oh no. I _do_ like that. Which is precisely the problem," he informed her, pressing a long, slow kiss to her lips, in which he gently grazed his teeth against her bottom lip. Her gasp was muffled by his own mouth. "And... twirling your hair. That one drives me crazy," he added factually. She gave another laugh and raised a brow in curiosity.

"Oh really? So all the times I've been playing with my hair, you've been thinking dark, sinister thoughts? Jeez, George, you're disgusting," she declared teasingly. He chuckled.

"Hmm. I'm also in love with you, so I suppose you'll just have to forgive me," he decided simply.

"As long as you can forgive me for thinking dark, sinister thoughts every time you came out of the shower," she retorted. George's eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"The shower, is it? Hmm. I'll have to take note of that," he decided thoughtfully.

"I'd advise you do. And your reading glasses. They're pretty hot, too," she added.

"It's all becoming clear now! Maybe we should try the best of both worlds and see if we can find a pair of goggles somewhere," he laughed.

"Uhh... not the most attractive look. I've seen your swimming carnival photos," she winced. He chuckled, and then gave a very contented sigh.

"I'm happy. And I don't think I've been happy for a very long time. Certainly not like this," he informed her honestly. She smiled softly, and traced the outline of his features with her delicate little hand.

"I'm happy too. And I've _never_ been happy like this before," she assured him in murmured reply, before leaning forwards, and pressing another kiss to his waiting lips.

**A/N: Sigh. Cute stuff all round, folks.**


	32. Of Resolutions and Revelations

Despite the protests of the hospital, later that day, after a visit from everyone who was staying at Pemberley, George wrapped Emilia up in as many layers as clothing they could find in her luggage, purchased enough medication to keep her and an entire country healthy for the next millennium, and sat her in the car before driving back to London. They would stay in England for three or four days whilst Emilia recuperated, before they would fly out to Paris a week before the fashion show began, giving them plenty of time to laze around and enjoy the most romantic city in the world.

"You know, I didn't think of it till now. Poor Haley," Emilia muttered suddenly, when they were just driving into London.

"What's wrong with Luna _now_?" George questioned, glancing across to his companion.

"She, uhh... might have a small crush on you," she answered with hesitation. George groaned.

"Tell her the truth then. She'll get over it, she has the memory span of a goldfish, after all," he muttered.

"I just hope she's not too upset. She wasn't exactly happy with me when I told her that you probably weren't interested," she added.

"And how did you know I wasn't interested? Seems someone was a little jealous there," he teased. Emilia rolled her pale eyes.

"_No_, I was just –"

"Desperately in love with me," he sighed with a smirk. "It's alright, darling, I understand. I'm just too perfect, you can't handle it," he concluded.

"Hmm. Nice ego there. Did you have to buy that separately, or were you born with it?" she questioned laughingly. George chuckled as he stopped at an intersection.

"She'll have to know."

"I know, but... I guess she wasn't the first person I wanted to talk to about our relationship. I mean, not even _Eli_ knows," she sighed.

"We'll tell them. We're not keeping this a secret from anyone," he assured her. She gave a weak smile, and sighed.

"I know. I just... I'm not even sure. I'm a little nervous, I suppose," she confessed.

"Nervous? About _me_?" he questioned in surprise, as the lights changed colour and he was able to drive forwards. She suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious as she formulated her response.

She'd never been in a _real_ relationship before. She'd been on a few dates once or twice, but they always ended in disappointment for both parties. She had no idea how to act, what to do, what would happen, she was suddenly very aware that _he_ had the upper hand. _He_ was in complete control of the situation.

"Don't forget that you're the only one who's actually been in a real relationship before. I don't know how to act... 'couple-ish' around people," she shrugged finally. George gave a small smile.

"Well, in terms of being in a real relationship, you don't have to be nervous. Most of it comes naturally, and for everything that doesn't, I'll be able to teach you," he assured her. "And with the 'couple-ish' way of behaving, there are only a few rules. Firstly, look gooey eyed at me all the time. Secondly, hang onto every word I say, and thirdly, touch me in any means possible as often as you can," he instructed. Emilia laughed. "And as for the thing I think you're trying to bring up but keep blushing every time conversation steers even slightly towards it, don't worry. It'll happen when it happens," he added finally.

Emilia's cheeks blushed bright pink once again, and it wasn't due to the remnants of her fever.

"Well it's easy for you to be calm about it, _you've_ done it, but _I_ haven't," she objected slightly petulantly. He chuckled.

"I won't deny that. But it's nothing to be frightened about. It's not difficult; it's one of those things that comes naturally. It'll probably hurt a little at first, but after that it gets... well, _really good_," he assured her. "And I'm not expecting anything. I mean, I _want_ to –"

"I'd be a bit offended if you didn't."

"- but that doesn't mean the moment we get to the apartment I'm going to shag you senseless. I can wait."

"Hmm. The other suggestion sounded like fun," she teased. He chuckled.

"Don't encourage me. The only thing is that..." he paused, thinking over his words. "There are some things that we can ease into. Like kissing, holding hands, that sort of stuff. It's a bit more difficult to ease into sex. It tends to be some sort of... sudden, unplanned thing," he explained with some difficulty.

"By 'sudden', you don't mean your earlier suggestion about 'shagging me senseless', do you?" she questioned with a slight frown. He rolled his dark eyes.

"Emilia, I've been waiting for this day for a great deal longer than you can really imagine. After waiting so long, I think I can wait a little longer," he assured her gently. She gave a relieved smile. "I can't wait _forever_, but I think I'll be able to hold out for the next thirty seconds," he threw in with a cheeky smile.

"How old were you before you –"

"Popped my proverbial cherry? Ashamedly young. I didn't even know where everything went. And even when I worked it out I don't think I did it right," he informed her with a laugh, before glancing to her. "Don't worry. Since, I think I've improved at least a little," he added.

"It's just... you seem so calm. So... mature about this," she sighed wistfully.

"Believe me, on the inside I'm a nervous wreck. I'm been dreaming of this for so long that I don't even know where dreaming ends and you begin. But I've always known that this was the next step. I've always hoped and expected that one day... whereas you weren't so sure. That's what confused you," he explained. "I'm comfortable. I feel like I've been easing into this, just like we'll do our best to ease into the more physical aspect of our relationship. You just have to see some sort of eventual outcome," he rationalised.

"You. You're the eventuality. You and me," she decided firmly. He laughed.

"Sweetheart, that's your problem. It's _always_ been you and me. From the very first time I ever held you in my arms, I promised that it was just you and me. You've got to dream a bit bigger than that," he returned.

"Well what did _you_ visualise?" she questioned with slight annoyance.

"Oh, you probably don't want to know about _that_. If my suggestion of 'shagging you senseless' surprised you, then I think it might just give you a heart attack," he sniggered. She rolled her eyes.

"You know what I mean."

"I saw the family that I'd never had, but had always wanted. When you say 'family', you think a husband, a wife, children, a dog or two, that sort of stuff," he began slowly. "I saw you. You were the family that I wanted. Marriage, children and domesticated animals can come later. My... eventual outcome was spending the rest of my life with you. Only not sleeping in different beds," he explained. "Emilia, I'm not in this for fun. You're not another notch on the bedpost or some sort of temporary fix," he said suddenly, turning to glance at her with soft eyes. "You're forever. That's how I've always wanted you. Not just watching old movies and eating ridiculously sugary lollies or pressed up against a wall with your skirt God-knows-where, which is where this is headed if you continue biting your lip like that," he warned. She blushed. "I just... I want _you_. All I want is you, for the rest of our lives," he finished.

Emilia gave a small, comforted smile as he turned back to the road. Things didn't seem as difficult as she had originally suspected them.

She had feared, at first; that everything in her life that she knew so well would drastically change if she and George finally ended up together, that nothing would ever be the same. But, the next few days passed, it seemed quite natural that his hands lingered on her waist for a little longer than necessary; that his tender little touches had held more intent than just a friendly tap on the shoulder, and that when his eyes sparkled it was with something closer to affection than animosity. And George's proposed 'waiting' was much more of a theoretical concept than anything else, and his first suggestion involving the term 'shag' was deemed the more appropriate action to be taken.

It seemed as if those little signs had always been there, and as the tender little touches progressed to meaningful caresses, pecks on the cheek evolved into loving kisses and late nights once filled with movies and takeout were devoted to a physical intimacy that had been years in the making, Emilia gradually came to the conclusion that they always _had_ been there.

He always _had_ loved her, but it was her own nature that could not, and would not accept the possibly of her being loved.

"How long have you loved me?" she questioned unexpectedly as they lay together atop the tangled sheets of George's bed, rain sliding over the windowpanes to the rhythm of their hearts. It was either very, very late at night or very, _very_ early in the morning, and they were due to fly out to France at nine. George raised a brow and gave a small, gentle smile as he glanced to his lover, lying with her head on his uncovered chest, lithe fingers lazily tracing an invisible pattern down his side as he toyed with the ends of her blonde curls.

"Hmm. Always," he answered simply, pressing a small kiss to her forehead, and shifting so he could hold her closer to his form. Emilia rolled her pale eyes.

"Specifics, please," she requested diligently.

"What, do you want my precise coordinates at the exact moment I realised that I was in love with you?" he laughed teasingly. She shrugged.

"I don't know. Just… tell me something," she said simply. George sighed, and gave a small chuckle.

"Well… I've loved you since you were as big as my shoe and able to be held in one hand," he began with a nostalgic smile. "You were very small and pink and smelt like caramel, and your mother just thrust you into my arms – I was about twelve at the time, mind you – and I suddenly had this warm weight that I was holding onto, and you opened your big blue eyes and spat up on me," he described with teasing lovingness. Emilia laughed, and playfully smacked him in the chest.

"Hey! I did _not, _and this is _not_ enforcing the general consensus that I'm an angel," she reminded him firmly, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Do you want me to continue with the story?"

"Yes please."

"Well, I loved you then, you were the most precious little thing I had ever seen, and I felt this unbelievable urge to protect you from everything horrible in the world. I just wanted to wrap you up in your blankets and lock the door to your nursery so everything that could ever cause you pain would never find you," he explained.

"But you weren't _in_ love with me," Emilia stated slowly. He nodded.

"No, I wasn't then. I _loved_ you, but differently to the way I love you now," he answered. "Sometimes, quite often really, I want to hide you from the rest of the world so you'll never have to feel any pain, but I know you well enough to realise that it's not what you would want," he continued quietly.

"So when did you fall _in_ love with me?" she questioned with a raised brow. He sighed.

"On the day of your fourteenth birthday you had your first real party," he began. Emilia's eyes widened in surprise. He nodded with slight guilt. "Yes, even then I loved you," he sighed. "You wore a lavender ball-gown, and you obviously weren't enjoying yourself, it was a stuffy party and you never had that many friends, and someone asked if you were having fun," he continued, with the air of one telling a good story, a grin emerging on his lips. "You said that you found it terribly dull, and you'd much rather spend the day with your best friend instead," he laughed. Emilia rolled her eyes.

"I remember that. Mum got _so_ annoyed at me for it," she muttered with a small smile.

"The woman asked who that was, and you said 'George'. She asked 'George Who?' And you turned around, and said with your sauciest little look, 'Why, _my_ George, of course'," he chuckled fondly. Emilia hid her grin as she pressed her cheek to the side of his chest, tilting her head so she could watch his expression.

"And you loved me then?" she asked softly. He smiled, and nodded.

"Yes. I realised that I loved being called 'your' George, and I wanted that," he replied. "I went through phases of loving you. Stages, I guess. That was a stage of admiration – I generally admired who you were, your spirit, your wit, I indulged in it, and I really was, even then, in love with you – but once again in a different way than I am now," he explained. "There wasn't anything sexual back then. I wasn't attracted to you like that," he added, with slight sheepishness.

"Ahhh…" Emilia muttered, nodding slowly. "Sooooo… um, _when_ did you start to…" she trailed off awkwardly.

"Well, you were seventeen," he began with slight hesitation. "I came over early in the morning because your cook always made a good breakfast, and I felt like a decent meal," he explained slowly. "Anyway, Marcy sent me upstairs to get you, because you still hadn't woken up and she refused to give me any food until you were downstairs too," he continued. "That nightgown, the white cotton one with the pink lace at the top. Do you still have it?" he questioned suddenly. She blinked in surprise.

"Uhh… I guess so, but it's too thin to be warm and I hardly ever wear it because it's pretty see-through –" she answered thoughtfully, before her cheeks flushed red. "Oh fuck. I think I was repressing that memory," she winced suddenly.

"I walked in, told you to get your lazy bum out of bed…"

"And I got out –"

"Swearing at me, might I add."

"But I was wearing that nightgown? Really?" she squealed in embarrassment. He nodded, and blushed.

"It was very thin, and I could see… well, _everything_," he admitted, lowering his eyes in shame. "I know I shouldn't have looked, but… yeah. You weren't awake enough to realise what I'd seen," he shrugged. Emilia gave a small laugh.

"Uhh… well did you at least like what you saw?" she asked teasingly. He rolled his eyes and grinned.

"Hmm. Very much," he informed her with a playful twinkle in his dark eyes, his hand tracing invisible little patterns on the side of her uncovered hip. His fingers bumped over the outline of a few old scars. "The moment I saw what was underneath those designer label clothes you would wear I knew that I was hooked – I'd loved your soul the moment I met you, I loved your mind when you were fourteen and knew exactly what to say at exactly the right moment, but it was then that I fell in love with your body," he explained, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.

"That's an awfully strange thing to say, considering how much _I_ love _yours_," she threw back laughingly, rolling over and poking him in the belly. He rolled his eyes. "No! Really! I do!" she assured him firmly, her laughter wearing off. She moved her hand across his stomach to his hips. "This little V thing here, on your pelvis. I _love_ this," she murmured thoughtfully, tracing the indentation on the bottom of his stomach, beneath the subtle hint at a six-pack. "What's it called?" she asked curiously.

"Not a clue. You should name it," he laughed.

"I will. I'll name it the 'George'," she said thoughtfully.

"And I'll name _this_ the 'Emilia'," he retorted, running his hand across her shoulders to trace the notch at the bottom of her throat. He moved it back to find the indentation on the sides, where her neck met her shoulders. "This whole area. But maybe just this," he muttered, returning to the notch. "I adore this. I want this. This is mine – I own it now," he declared, his voice gentle and quite serious, as if he were an explorer investigating some new untravelled land. "No. I want everything from the top of your head to the tip of your toes," he murmured thoughtfully, running his hand along the length of her arm.

"Hmm, can't imagine why," she laughed honestly. "After all, you've always made it quite clear that I've got my fair share of physical imperfections," she reminded him. George sighed.

"We've been through this. You're beautiful. Gorgeous. Ridiculously so. You're the closest thing to perfection that's ever existed, you're… _brilliant_, only I never told you because I didn't want to give myself away," he assured her. She rolled her eyes. "I'm not teasing. It's true," he said firmly.

"I know you're not. I just... it's still a little hard to believe," she shrugged simply. "You never said that sort of stuff to me. It's the only thing that I don't think I can get used to about this," she sighed.

"Well you're going to have to, because I'm sick of pretending that I don't think you're a goddess," he decided. She gave a small laugh.

"You can't say that. You're biased," she threw back.

"So because I'm sleeping with you I can't tell if you're attractive or not?" he laughed. "Sorry, darling, but things don't work like that," he teased playfully, before leaning forwards for a languid kiss. "Are you sure you're feeling up to the flight tomorrow?" he questioned.

"I'll be fine. You shouldn't worry so much, I'm feeling a lot better," she insisted. He sighed.

"I can't help but worry. I don't want to risk you," he returned, holding her close to his chest as he pulled the blankets up further to keep her warm.

"Did you seriously think I was going to die when I was in hospital?" she questioned after a sigh. He tensed slightly.

"You know I don't like talking about that," he muttered.

"I know, but... I also know you're not okay with everything. I don't want to go to France until everything is okay here," she insisted.

"So that's why you made a cake for Haley, is it? To say sorry?" he questioned with a small smile.

"That, and to prove to you that I really _can_ cook now," she insisted. He laughed.

"Of course, love. Forgive me if I don't try it," he chuckled.

"You're avoiding the question, you know. Did you think I was going to die?" she repeated. He gave a long, slow sigh.

"For a little while, yes. And I can't remember ever being more frightened than at that moment," he confessed. "You were so pale and you weren't moving at all. I was... very scared," he muttered.

"And why did you throw up when –"

"I can't even explain why. Suddenly I just felt sick," he answered, before she could even finish her sentence. "I think I – I think I suddenly realised how fragile your existence is. Howl said it, but I didn't know he was talking about when he said it was 'black and white'. He meant death. He meant that you're alive one moment and you're dead the next. There's no flashing lights and grand orchestra. You just... die," he muttered, staring out the window with a faraway expression.

"I thought I'd lost you. I didn't think you'd ever come back. I would have worked up the energy to go for help if I'd known Marianne was still unconscious, or if... if I knew how you felt," she assured him. He sighed, and stroked lazy circles over her shoulder.

"I know. But I came so close to losing you that I just... it's going to be a while before I'm okay with talking about this. It's only been a few days. I'm still pinching myself to see if this is all real," he confessed.

"Would you like me to pinch you?"

"Depends where."

"Ew! More libido based comments! You're terrible," she laughed. He grinned cheekily.

"Well, at least you're aware of my faults now," he rationalised.

"So what were you doing in Switzerland?" she questioned curiously, when a few minutes silence had fallen.

"Going through my father's main estate. He'd retreated there to avoid tax or something. I was sorting out his belongings, his affairs, that sort of stuff," he answered. "It's a lovely house, though. But I'm going to put it up for sale. I don't see myself using it," he shrugged.

"Was that his only estate?"

"No, he has one in France, another in Germany, a cottage in Norfolk and some old Scottish castle. I don't know what he does with all these places, but I think I'm just going to tell them off. I've got no use for them," he said simply.

"Sell them for charity," she decided firmly. He laughed.

"In terms of legalities it's complicated, but I really don't need all the money I've suddenly inherited. Mother suggested –" he stopped himself with a slight blush.

"What?"

"Well... she suggested that I set up trust funds for the grandchildren she's in the market for," he explained ashamedly.

"Good Lord. Does your mother think I'm some sort of baby machine?" she scowled accusingly.

"She's a sad, lonely woman, Em. Don't care about what she thinks," he urged her comfortingly. Emilia rolled her pale eyes. "But if we _did_ have kids, at least we'd get to compete with Howl," he reasoned.

"You're terrible."

"You keep saying that! It's got to hurt a man's self-esteem," he admonished with false severity.

"Hmm. I love you. Does that help?" she questioned patronisingly. He grinned smugly.

"Yes. Say it again," he demanded.

"I, Emilia Woodhouse, love _you_, George Knightley," she said clearly, pressing a firm kiss to his lips.

"I'm never going to get tired of hearing that," George sighed happily, breaking their kiss for a moment.

"Well I don't anticipate getting bored of saying it," she returned with a small grin.

"And nor I. I love you," he murmured against her lips.

Several hours later, Emilia finally dragged herself out of bed, showered (with George's assistance, of course, as she was still in a state of ill-health. Ahem.) and changed before she headed over to Haley's apartment with the cake she had made the night before. She knocked tentatively on the door that had once been her own, and waited.

Haley answered just as she was about to kick the door down, with an irritated, still-sleepy expression on her face.

"Oh. Miss Woodhouse. I didn't know you were back," she muttered, her cheeks blushing bright red.

"I came back a few days ago. I uh, made you a cake. I thought you might like to have some," she said, holding forth the plastic Tupperware container. Haley eyed it suspiciously, but pulled the door open to allow her entry. "I came to apologise, Haley. And to tell you something that you're probably not going to want to hear, but I need to tell you anyway," she declared, stepping into the kitchen.

"Oh no, Miss Woodhouse, _I_ need to apologise. And _I _need to tell you something that you won't want to hear, I'm dreadfully sorry," she stammered out immediately. "It's just that I – I – I'm engaged," she confessed.

"You're _engaged_? To who?" she questioned incredulously.

"Bobby Martin. I saw him the day after you left and we started talking, and I realised that I still really _do_ love him, and I should never have rejected him. We started going out and, well, we just decided to get engaged! I'm so sorry. I know you didn't like him," she babbled out hastily.

"Oh, Haley, that's wonderful! I'm so happy for you," she sighed with great relief, pulling her friend into a tight hug.

"You – you _are_? But I thought –"

"No, I'm happy because you're with who you wanted to be, and _you_'re happy now. That's what's important," she insisted. Haley beamed.

"Oh, _thank you_, Miss Woodhouse! Will you be my maid of honour, please?" she begged hopefully. Emilia nodded immediately.

"Of course. I came over to tell you that – well; George and I are together now. I wanted to tell you before, but... well, we're uh – not really that interested in leaving the apartment at the moment, if you know what I mean," she muttered with red cheeks. Haley blinked.

"No. What do you mean?"

"Uhh... Don't worry. We're going to Paris in a few hours, actually. We're going to spend a week together before the Fashion Week," she informed her excitedly.

"Oh, Miss Woodhouse, that's so wonderful! I'm so happy for you!" Haley sighed dreamily.

"Actually, I have to get back now, I've not had much time for packing over the past few – uhh, you know what, don't worry. I should just be getting back," she stopped herself. She pulled her friend into a warm hug. "I'm really happy for you, Haley. And I hope we still get to be friends when you're a married woman," she added with a smile.

"Of course, Miss Woodhouse. I should probably be going back to bed now; I only got ten hours of sleep last night! I'll be so sleepy all day," she sighed.

"Okay. Have fun with that. I'll see you in two weeks," Emilia finished, before ducking out of the apartment, completely relieved to know that she hadn't hurt Haley.

"Hey. How did it go?" George questioned when she returned. He was in his wardrobe, pulling things out to take with him to France. She rose to the tips of her toes and kissed his cheek, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.

"Good. She's with Bobby Martin now, they're engaged," she replied with a happy sigh. George chuckled.

"Well that's at least positive," he laughed. "Have you finished all your packing?" he questioned, attempting to glance over his shoulder, chuckling as she playfully hid from his view.

"Nup. I should probably go do that," she commented thoughtfully.

"If we intend on getting out of here in time, then I suppose so," he laughed.

"It's _your_ jet. Why do we need to leave at a scheduled time?" she questioned petulantly, ducking under his arm to stand before him, her arms still wrapped around his waist.

"Because that's how the pilot likes it. And besides, we'll have plenty of time for games on the flight over, if you insist on this little round of hide and seek," he chuckled, smoothing back her blonde curls.

"Good. I guess I'd better go get my stuff now," she sighed dramatically.

"If you can stand to leave me."

"Nup! I guess I'll just have to stay here," she reasoned, lying back on the bed with arms outstretched. George sighed, and glanced at his watch. "Having fun packing all by your lonesome?" she questioned teasingly.

"We _so _don't have time," he warned. Emilia pouted miserably, and he groaned as a response. "Damn. My pilot is going to kill me," he muttered, before leaning forwards to capture her lips. Emilia laughed happily against his mouth, as she toyed with the buttons on his collar.

She was struck by a sudden thought.

_Happy_.

How long ago had it been since she was last truly happy?

And then another thought replaced that.

It didn't matter – all that mattered was that she was happy in that very moment.

**A/N: Ahhh, just some cuteness. Meow.**


	33. Of Births and New Beginnings

"_I will go down, as your lover,  
Your friend,  
Give me your lips, and with one kiss,  
We'll begin_,"

-Blink 182, 'I'm Lost Without You'

"How do I say 'that last outfit was lovely, but I really don't see the practicality in a small set of helicopter blades on one's head'?" George questioned curiously as the lights went up to signal the end of the last catwalk of Paris Fashion Week.

"It was a little weird, wasn't it," Emilia laughed, linking her arm in his as the designers left the room, pages of notes at their disposal. "And I refuse to teach you anymore French. Not after making the mistake of giving you that phrasebook," she muttered, shaking her head and wincing at the memory of her boyfriend screaming '_je veux faire l'amour avec toi!_' at her across a busy hotel lobby for laughs.

"I speak French goodly," he defended with a small smirk. "And I have to say, I thought your catwalk was the best. Your stuff was infinitely superior," he decided firmly.

"Hmm. And the fact that the label was not only named after _you_, but you're also sleeping with the designer has nothing to do with how much you liked the outfits?" she questioned teasingly. He shrugged, and smirked.

"Possibly. But it was really great. You knocked that crazy German guy with the sunglasses and the gloves right out of the game," he insisted. Emilia laughed.

"I'm sorry, but Karl Lagerfeld is one of the most incredible designers in the world. You diss him, you diss Chanel. And there will be no dissing Chanel here," she warned firmly. George gave another laugh.

"I forgot how amusing I found fashion shows. But it's interesting to be sitting on the sidelines, not walking up and down like an idiot wearing clothes that I'd normally never be seen dead in," he chuckled.

"You were a _hot_ model!" she insisted. He rolled his eyes.

"Years ago, m'dear. I'm most definitely _not_ going back to that," he assured her.

"Hey, Emilia Woodhouse, right?" a tall, impossibly skinny woman questioned with a raised brow, turning to stop Emilia suddenly. Before Emilia could respond, she instantly shook her hand firmly. "I loved the new line. I'd like to talk distribution with you. You're based in London, right?" she questioned, to which Emilia nodded. "Good. I'll look you up and arrange a meeting. Like I said, _loved_ the new line," she repeated, before blowing a kiss, and disappearing into the crowd of people leaving the room.

"Who the hell was she?" George asked with a frown.

"If she's who I think she is, then I might just have gone to heaven," she muttered incredulously.

"Wow. You just spoke to God. I'm impressed. She's a lot taller in person," he commented dryly, just as Emilia's phone started to ring. "That's right, ignore my funny remarks. I love you too, babe," he muttered as she hastily pulled it from her pocket to answer.

"Hello?"

"It's Howl. Are you with George?" was the quick response.

"Uh, yeah – we just finished watching the last show. We were about to head back to the hotel before the after party," she answered, slightly perturbed at Howl's curious tone.

"Um, I would advise you get on a plane instead. I've been trying to get a hold of you for hours – Antoinette's gone into labour," he stated nervously. Emilia's eyes widened instantly.

"But she's not due for two weeks! And I thought you had the C-section scheduled for next Monday!" she exclaimed in shock.

"Well, unfortunately, my son is a little impatient. Can you come?" he questioned hurriedly.

"Of course, we'll be there as soon as we can. Just look after her until we get there," she instructed firmly, before hanging up. "Antoinette's gone into labour. She's going to have the baby," she informed him incredulously.

"I got that one. I'm calling the pilot," he replied, pulling out his own phone and immediately dialling.

"My cousin is going to be a Mum! I can't believe this!" she breathed in complete shock.

"You'd better, because if I'm familiar with the way things work, very soon you're going to be watching your cousin become a mother, and disbelief doesn't sit well in a delivery room," he muttered, before his pilot answered and he ordered the jet to be ready as soon as possible.

"We have to get back to the hotel! We have to pack!" she cried suddenly, tugging on her lover's arm as they practically ran down the street.

In twenty minutes they had their belongings packed and the room paid for before they got a taxi to the airport.

"Are they going to do a C-section? _Can they_ when she's already gone into labour?" Emilia questioned worriedly on the way over.

"You'd probably be a bit more familiar with that sort of stuff, love, having all the right parts. I've got very little idea," he assured her, reaching for her hand. "It's going to be fine. They'll do what's best for her and the baby, and they'll both be fine. Let's just hope they finally managed to pick a name," he muttered.

The one hour flight over to England was filled with complete anxiety as Emilia paced nervously in the cabin. George sighed and spun around in one of the plush leather chairs.

"Walking around in a circle is what the mother-to-be does to stop contractions or something like that, bub, it doesn't make sense that you're doing it," he commented.

"Well she could need us right now and we're somewhere over in Timbuktu! I can't exactly sit _still_!" she snapped. George groaned and ran a hand through his dark hair.

"Lord, I hope you're not this bad when _you_'re the one in labour," he muttered beneath his breath.

"What did you say?"

"Only that I love you passionately, darling," he assured her, attempting a straight face. She rolled her pale eyes. "Just calm down. Worrying isn't going to get us to London any quicker," he reminded her. She sighed.

"I _know_, but – oh! I can see the airport!" she squealed suddenly, glancing out the window.

"Thank _God_," George muttered. "Emilia, for goodness sake, sit down and put your seatbelt on, I'm not having you flying about the cabin," he instructed. She sighed and threw herself down in the chair beside him, buckling up her seatbelt and bounding up and down slightly with anticipation. "Darling, has anyone ever told you that you have a slight tendency to fidget when impatient?" he questioned teasingly.

"I'd glare at you, but I can't be bothered to," she threw back. "Your car will still be here?"

"Unless it's been stolen, and considering it's in the private hanger section, I kind of doubt that," he retorted sarcastically.

"Good. I was thinking we should just leave our stuff in the car and go straight to the hospital. No sense in going home," she decided. George sighed.

"Luckily I have the celebratory cigars and scotch in my suitcase then," he muttered.

"I thought you quit smoking!"

"Oh, I have. Years ago. You don't inhale it like – and it's all the same to you. I'll toss them out," he sighed upon seeing her 'no nonsense' face as the plane started its descent. "Em? She's going to be fine," he assured her suddenly. She sighed.

"I know, but I can't help but worry," she muttered.

"I only pity William. Our flight over was only an hour, they'll be in the air for another twenty-four," he muttered, trying not to snigger.

"You're mean."

"And you're pretty."

Emilia rolled her eyes at his lame retort whilst he sniggered through the landing.

"Come on. Let's go meet Polliwog," he said when the plane had landed. They took as little time as possible with security and their baggage, getting in George's car as quickly as they could and driving over to the hospital.

"The text said room '14B'. Is this the maternity ward?" George frowned, looking around. When a nurse walked past wheeling a screaming woman with a belly that looked as if it could explode and a red-faced man desperately trying to free his fingers from her grip he nodded. "Right. Apparently it is. Let's find her room," he muttered, glancing up to the numbers atop doors down the hall.

"Thank God we're not too late!" Emilia cried when they finally found the room and stepped into the threshold. Toni sat atop a bed wearing a pale pink hospital gown and a frown on her face.

"_Finally_! You have to get me out of here. They're refusing to do the operation or give me drugs. I have to push a small human being out of my –"

"Where's Howl?" George questioned immediately.

"Getting tea and trying to contact Eli and William. No point though, they're probably not even over Indonesia yet. Meanwhile I get to sit here trying to ignore the fact that every five minutes my uterus is trying to implode," she muttered bitterly.

"Is it that bad?" George questioned in surprise.

"It's not fun. Kind of like period pain. Times a million," she explained, turning to Emilia. "I've decided that as payback to Howl –"

"What did he do?"

"Do you not see the giant growth sticking out of me? The stork didn't put that there!" Toni snapped in loud response. "Anyway, as payback, I'm only going to speak French during the whole thing. You'll have to translate," she requested of Emilia.

"So you want me to be _in_ the delivery room?" she questioned, palling slightly.

"I'm not sure. I haven't thought that far ahead. I'm not really very good at thinking at the mo – _ah_!" she cried suddenly, clutching her stomach in pain as a contraction hit her. She winced and bit her hand, trying to distract herself from the pain. When it passed, she was breathing heavily and looked far from happy. "Where's _Howl_? Why isn't he in here?" she questioned as Emilia soothed her hair back.

"Go find him!" she hissed to George, who sighed and nodded. He stepped out of the room and down the hall, only to find the disappearing husband sitting in a corner of the almost empty waiting room.

"Howl? Are you okay?" he questioned slowly, stepping towards his friend, who was leaning over, his head supported with his hands, elbows resting against his knees.

"I can't do it. I can't. It's too hard to watch her in pain," he insisted, wiping his eyes and containing a sob. "This wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to have a C-section, he wasn't supposed to come for another week," he told his friend, glancing up at him.

"I know. But things like this happen. She needs you, Howl. She's having a _baby_; she's having _your_ baby. She can't do this without you," he insisted. Howl sighed.

"I know, but – but she's in so much pain, and I can't – I can't watch it," he stammered weakly, running a hand through his light brown hair. "When did you get here?" he sniffled.

"About five minutes ago. We were in Paris just over an hour ago," he replied, sitting down next to his friend.

"You two spoke?" he questioned.

"Uhh... yes," he replied, concealing a smirk. He hadn't told Howl anything about what had happened, so as far as Howl was aware, he and Emilia were still just 'friends'.

"How did it go?"

"Well. Very... _well_," he muttered, nodding to emphasise his point.

A pause fell on the two.

"So does it run in the family?" George questioned suddenly. Howl blinked in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"Is Antoinette an _unbelievably_ good shag too, or is it just Emilia?" he asked curiously, trying to conceal his smirk.

Howl's eyes widened and his jaw fell.

"You didn't."

"Oh, I did. And not just the once."

"You – a – and _she_, you're –"

"Well we're certainly not just friends anymore," George shrugged, practically grinning from ear to ear.

"_When_?"

"I told her how I felt just after you left the hospital back in Lambton, and we went back to London for a few days before we went to Paris," he answered. "I can't believe I put it off so long. She loves me too, Howl. I can't explain how happy I am right now," he continued with a quickly growing smile.

"And how did it go in Paris?"

"Well, that was what I wanted to talk to you about. I know that you might be a little... disappointed. But it was such a spur of the moment thing, we didn't really consider... uh..." he trailed off. Howl raised a curious brow.

"What happened in Paris?"

"We... got married."

If Howl had been surprised by George's revelation that he and Emilia were now in a much more physical relationship, it was _nothing_ compared to the look on his face when George answered his innocent question.

"Nearly a week ago. I wanted you to come over and be my best man, but I knew if I had time to make a call I'd think the situation through and I'd put it off. I didn't want to put it off, I just wanted to do it. We wanted to do it right away, but we had to wait ten days before we could, and I was already worried I'd pull out before then," he sighed.

"Oh."

"I'm sorry. We'll be having a proper ceremony; we're not even telling many people that we're already married, just to make the real one seem more dramatic. It was just a civil thing, we could only do it because Emi's a French citizen. You'll be able to do the honours in a few months," he assured him. Howl smiled, and chuckled.

"I'm not disappointed, George. I would have been surprised if it were any other way," he informed him. George frowned slightly in confusion.

"I don't follow you."

"It's always been you and Emilia. It's a two person club, and no one else has entry. To do something as important as getting married with other people... well, it just wouldn't be like you," he muttered. "I understand, and I don't hate you. Just as long as I get to do the pretend honours," he laughed. George smiled, and nodded.

"Of course. And you get first dibs on any Godchildren," he added. Howl chuckled.

"Good to know."

"Speaking of which, there's a young woman in there desperately trying to bring her son into the world, and she needs the man who put that kid there. I know it's hard to see the woman you love in pain, but how do you think _she_ feels?" he questioned. Howl sighed.

"I know. I – I'll try. I just... I don't know if I'm ready to do this," he confessed, rising to his feet.

"Well, old friend, you don't have much choice," he replied simply, clapping him on the back.

"George, I don't know if... If I lose her I –"

"You're not going to lose her. And even if you did, we'd all be here for you. Now go in there and be the husband that your wife needs right now," George said in a finalising tone. Howl nodded, looking rather pale, and rose to his feet. With determination, they headed back up the hall to the room.

"Oh, and by the way, it does run in the family," Howl muttered, causing George to snigger as they opened the door to the small room.

"Howl! Where were you?" Antoinette questioned anxiously when her husband appeared. He instantly took his place by her side, pushing her hair back from her hot brow and holding her hand tightly.

"I was speaking to George, sweetheart. How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

"It's hurting really bad now. Are you sure there's nothing –"

"You heard the doctor. It's too dangerous," he reminded her softly, pressing a kiss to her brow.

"I don't _care_! It hurts and I don't want it to hurt!" she wept pathetically before another contraction seized her. She cried out like someone had punched her in the belly, tears slipping from her eyes. She practically shook with pain before she collapsed in the bed, gasping for breath.

"Emilia, get a nurse. Get a doctor. Someone. Anyone," Howl demanded. Emilia nodded and instantly disappeared from the room. "I'm here. It's all going to be fine. I'm here, Antoinette. I'm here, cariad," he soothed her gently as she continued to weep.

"I can't do this. Please, _please_ don't make me do this," she begged. Howl gently soothed her.

"I know. I'm going to see if there's anything that can be done, but you're doing _so _well so far. I'm so proud of you," he murmured into her hair. "You're doing wonderfully, little girl. Just keep on breathing and pretty soon our son will be here," he urged her.

"If anything happens –"

"Nothing is going to happen, sweetheart. You're going to be fine," he assured her firmly.

"I love you. And I love Polliwog. Make sure he knows," she insisted. He regarded her with a pained expression, and nodded.

"Of course. Always," he murmured softly before another contraction seized her, and the door opened with Emilia and a nurse stepping in. "You have to do something. It's too much for her," he demanded of the nurse.

"I know how it seems, Mister Llewellyn, but to give your wife anything for the pain at this stage, when she's still so weak, would be a danger to her and the baby," the nurse said firmly.

"She's screaming in pain and you're telling me that there's nothing you can do?" he questioned incredulously, trying to shout at the nurse and calm his wife at the same time. George reached for Emilia's hand and held it tightly. "She's twenty-three! She's too young for anything to happen to her!" he cried angrily.

"I'm sorry. We can't do anything," she apologised. "I can fetch your obstetrician and see what can be done, and she'll check how far along she is. I'll only be a minute," she insisted, before leaving the room as the pain released Antoinette. She was taking in shallow breaths with pain.

"How long has she been like this?" Emilia questioned Howl gently.

"It's been about twelve hours now. We thought it was a false alarm, it's been over at least a day since she's slept," he answered. It was clear that she was exhausted. "This is ridiculous. She won't be able to do this," he muttered anxiously.

"How are we going?" the doctor questioned in a chirpy voice as she stepped into the room. She glanced around with a kind smile. "Are you family?" she questioned.

"I'm her cousin," Emilia answered immediately.

"And I'm her cousin's husband," George added, pointing to Emilia quickly.

"And has Mrs Llewellyn requested you to be present during the birth?" she asked politely.

"I think so. She said so before, but I don't think we'll be able to ask her," Emilia answered, glancing over to her cousin, who was looking impossibly frail and weak as she lay atop the bed, hand held limply by her husband.

"You have to do something. She can't bear it much longer," Howl demanded.

"I need to see how far dilated your wife is before we can make those sorts of decisions, I'm afraid," the doctor replied, taking a seat at the end of the bed, in a position that certainly lacked modesty.

"I don't think she can deliver the baby. She needs that caesarean," he said firmly.

"She's at nine centimetres, Mister Llewellyn. In a few more minutes she'll be ready to give birth. It's too late for that now," she informed him just before another contraction hit Antoinette, and she cried out once more.

"_Please_! Anything! Does she look like she's going to be able to do this?" he questioned incredulously as his wife thrashed through the pain, biting her hand to distract herself.

"I'm sorry, but we can't stop it. We can't do an epidural because of your wife's low blood circulation, and there are no pain killers we can administer at this stage. She has to do this the old fashioned way, I'm afraid," she doctor insisted. Howl was almost at a point of tears.

"It's alright, Howl. She'll be fine," George insisted, moving with Emilia to stand by Antoinette's side where they could hold her hand and stroke her tired brow.

"If you're lying, George Knightley, I'm going to kill you," Howl muttered, reaching for his wife's free hand.

~ * ~

Howl hissed in pain as he gently lowered the damp towel to his bleeding forehead. It took a few moments for the stinging pain to become a comfort, and he was able to wipe away some of the blood.

He surveyed the damage in his bathroom mirror. A few bumps and abrasions, and he was fairy certain that his ribs were bruised, if not cracked. He gave another wince as he reached to dip the towel in fresh water; the severe kick to his groin was going to sting for a few more hours.

With a sigh he began to run a bath, and stepped out into the hall in search of tea – or perhaps something a little stronger. It'd been a while since he'd taken a beating, and he'd _never_ taken one so serious as to knock him out – he was only glad that Émile and the other bulky men that met him on his way home from work had left him bleeding on his own doorstep, and not done anything more serious. His car had been keyed with several words he didn't recognise, but were most likely French curse words, but it was something trivial, he'd been looking at buying a new car anyway.

He gave a sad sort of smile. He'd been planning on getting a new car that he could teach Antoinette to drive in. It didn't look like that was going to work out.

He hobbled downstairs to his empty kitchen, rifling through a few cupboards in search of the bottle of twelve-year-old whisky he'd been saving. He poured himself a rather large glass and set the bottle back on the bench with an exhausted groan.

He'd made a mistake. A very _big_ mistake, and now he had to pay for it. He expected a call any moment from Headmistress du Bourg, informing him that he'd lost his job and his teaching licence. His only hope was that it stayed private so Antoinette's reputation wouldn't be completely destroyed by the media.

He heard the doorbell ring and knew immediately that it could only be the police, ready to cart him off to the station for statutory rape. What more could it be? He'd been discovered having sex with his seventeen-year-old student by her mother; there was no forgiving such a crime.

The only thing that really bothered him was Martine's tortured, furious screams directed towards her daughter. He'd managed to hear a few words in the babble of French, things about 'Satan' and 'slut' and how she was no longer her daughter. Antoinette's desperate cries for her mother to understand fell on death ears, and the harsh slap of Martine's hand across her face startled him into action.

"Get away from her!" he'd cried angrily, pushing the woman away from Antoinette, who lay crumpled in a fit of tears on the floor, a sheet pulled over her shoulders. He'd tugged on his boxers the moment he'd sprung away from her when Martine entered the room, but considering her clothes were somewhere downstairs on the living room settee, she didn't have such an opportunity.

"Howl, _no_," Antoinette begged when a screaming Martine lunged at him. He desperately attempted to push her away whilst protecting Antoinette, finally settling to crouch on the floor and pull his love tightly into his arms, shielding her from her mother, who immediately began scratching furiously at his bare back.

"It's okay. It's okay," he murmured frantically as he held the trembling girl. He winced when Martine's long nails dug into his flesh, but he didn't care as long as he was keeping Antoinette safe.

He wasn't worried for his own safety or his job as he headed to answer the front door. It was Antoinette that worried him – Martine was insane, what would she do to her child when he wasn't there to protect her?

"Antoinette," he breathed sadly when he pulled open the door.

There she stood, looking small, weak and almost as worse for wear as he did. Her face was bruised, her lip and eyebrow cut, scratches ran along her arms, neck, and seemingly every bit of skin he could see beneath her sleeping shirt and jeans. She was almost trembling.

"I – I didn't have anywhere else to go," she stammered pathetically, stepping forwards and pressing her head against his chest. He winced with pain, but wound his arms around her regardless. "She – she kicked me out," she muttered into his bloodied shirt.

"It's alright, darling. You can live with me. You'll never have to leave again, we can – we can be together now," he whispered into her hair. Her scalp was bloodied beneath the white locks – what had Martine done to her? "She hurt you?" he questioned softly. She nodded.

"I'm okay. B – But, are you?" she asked anxiously, pulling away to meet his eyes in fear. He nodded, somewhat pained.

"I'm fine. I was just going to have a bath and try and drown away my sorrows," he explained with a weak smile. He sighed, and reached to push a strand of bloodied hair from her face. She visibly shook, and he instantly pulled his hand away. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. She shook her head.

"Don't be. It's just... she pulled my hair a little too hard, that's all," she shrugged.

"No. I'm sorry that this happened. If I'd not –"

"Howl. Don't be sorry. I love you, and I don't regret anything," she swore firmly. He nodded, but his eyes betrayed the fact that he didn't believe her.

"Come inside. It's too cold out there," he sighed, taking her hand in his and leading her into his home. She gave a small whimper of shock when he stepped into the light and the extent of his injuries became apparent.

"Oh, Howl..." she murmured sadly.

"I'm fine, cariad, really," he assured her gently as tears came to her eyes.

"Will you let me help you?" she begged softly. Normally he liked to keep her out of his life when it came to anything health-related. It had always been about his disorder, which was something they steered away from, but he could understand her hesitation, she didn't know if it extended to his physical well-being.

"I think after a nice long bath I'll be fine," he lied with a comforting smile, leading her into the kitchen. She glanced at the bottle on the bench.

"You've been drinking?" she questioned with a raised brow. He chuckled.

"Darling, alcohol has a wonderful ability to dull the senses – and the pain," he informed her.

"Well then, are you going to get me a glass?" she questioned with a raised and bloodied brow. He frowned slightly.

"I don't know. You're not eighteen yet, and it's pretty powerful stuff," he commented. She rolled her eyes.

"So you can sleep with me, but you can't drink with me?" she stated sarcastically. He found himself making a small grin as he pulled out another glass, but it was quickly replaced with a hiss of pain as he moved. She was by his side immediately, smoothing hair back from his brow with a loving touch.

"I'm fine," he assured her gently, pouring her out a tumbler.

"Not going to fill it up?" she questioned with a frown.

"Uh, you don't drink it like water, darling," he informed her simply. Hesitatingly she reached for the glass, and sniffed it, before taking a sip. She coughed loudly and lowered the glass, as if her throat had been burnt.

"That's awful!" she cried in surprise.

"Indeed."

He wasn't surprised, however, when she finished off her glass.

"I'd better go check on the bath. Might have overflowed by now," he sighed, glaring at the stairs as if they were his mortal enemy. "Be a dear and make sure we don't leave that downstairs," he requested, gesturing to the whisky on the bench. Toni picked up their glasses and the bottle before taking his arm, and they slowly ascended the stairs.

No words were spoken as they both removed their clothes, wincing as the material pulled away from dried blood. Howl slid into the bath first, and Toni after him. It wasn't a huge tub, but could fit two people. He reclined back, allowing the hot water to both soothe and sting his injuries, enjoying the closeness of his love as she lay with her head on his shoulder, the ends of her curls dipped into the water. He was quite certain they wouldn't have chance to be that close again.

"I'll be going to gaol, you know," he murmured finally.

"No. You won't."

"I'm just telling you because I don't want you to – you won't need to worry about anything. You can stay here as long as you want, and I won't be angry if you move on," he assured her in slight pain. "But they're not going to let me off on this. First I'll be removed from my teaching position, then they'll take away my licence, then there'll be court, and then I'll be sent to gaol. You – you have to expect the worst, Antoinette. Because it's probably going to happen, if your father doesn't kill me first," he muttered.

"Don't worry about him – he's a bastard. The only time he can be bothered to visit his daughter involves him nearly killing the man she loves. Yeah, my Papa is a really _wonderful_ guy," she snapped sarcastically. Howl sighed, running his hand gently along her bare arm. "But you're not going to gaol. Why do you think Mère kicked me out? It was because I refused to let her report you," she informed him finally.

"Antoinette..." he begun warningly, but she shook her head.

"No. I told her that if she even thought about hurting you I'd leave. She gave me a choice, stay and report you, or she'd kick me out," she explained, turning her head to meet his eyes. "And I chose you," she murmured finally.

He leant forwards and caught her lips in his. He was so _grateful_, but he was filled with guilt. She'd lost her mother because of him, how could he ever make that up to her?

"I think I'm going to need some more whisky," he muttered finally against her lips. She nodded, and reached over for the bottle, which sat on the vanity by the tub. He took a swig, before passing it to her. She choked down a few mouthfuls, her eyes watering. He could already feel the first effects of his glass downstairs kicking in, and he was quite certain she would be feeling them too, being so much smaller and thinner than he.

"This stuff is terrible," she informed him, passing back the bottle. He nodded.

"You wait till morning. I don't think either of us will be in any condition to go to school," he sighed. She nodded.

"I don't have any of my things, so..." she trailed off. He nodded.

"Of course. What time does your mother start work?"

"Nine. She leaves at about eight thirty."

"We'll get your things then. If we're conscious," he decided, well aware that the hangover they were going to experience the next day would be one of the worst he'd ever endured.

She nodded in response, and took another swig from the bottle before placing it back on the vanity. She caught her reflection in the mirror and frowned.

"Don't worry. They're just cuts and bruises, they'll heal," he assured her gently. Instead, she pulled open the top drawer and took out a pair of small scissors before slipping back into the bath. "Oh, no. No. Not your hair," he pleaded, when she raised them to her long, pale locks. He took one in his hand and kissed it, running his hands up to the nape of her neck. "I love your hair. Please don't cut it," he begged.

"Howl, she – you understand why, right?" she questioned quietly. He sighed, and nodded sadly. Her mother's hair was almost as long and pale as Antoinette's – there was a startling resemblance between the two.

"Will you grow it back for me?" he begged. She sighed.

"When – when this stops hurting, I promise I will," she assured him, a single tear slipping from her pale eyes. "When I feel like I can look at myself again, I swear I will."

"Alright. But let me," he requested quietly. She turned her back to face him, resting her head once again to his shoulder. He ran one lock from his hands, before cutting it off around her shoulders.

"Shorter."

He clipped it closer to her ears. She shook her head.

"Shorter," she practically whispered.

He cut it as short as he could handle, it was _just_ too long to be boy-length, but not long enough to be construed as a bob. The white curl fell onto the surface of the water like a symbol of her choice. She snatched it up and threw it into the sink with anger and force.

Each _snip_ of the scissors emphasised what she'd done – she chose _him_, over her family, her home, the life she knew, she picked _him. _Finally tossing the scissors aside, he ran his hand into her newly shortened locks and met her lips for a soft kiss. She tasted sweet as always, with a hint of whisky.

"I like it," he said finally, pulling her away slightly to take in the drastic change to her appearance. She managed to pull it off wonderfully, it suited her, wispy, feathery strands of cropped hair that framed her face and caused her eyes to shine brilliantly. "You're so beautiful," he murmured in disbelief.

"You're beautiful too, you know," she assured him, washing away some of the blood on his face with her wet fingers.

"Antoinette, do you understand what this means now?" he questioned gently. "It's you and me now. We're in this together. It's going to be hard – a lot harder than it ever was before, and I want you to be aware of that before you make any decisions," he informed her. She nodded.

"Howl, I know that I love you, and that's all that matters. I love you and I want to be with you for as long as you'll have me. I don't care what anyone else thinks, I don't care about my mother or my father or some stupid set of laws that forbid me from loving the man I love," she begun firmly. "I know this has been moving quickly, but we can do this, I know we can. And I won't leave you if things get hard –"

"- which they _will_."

"If they do then we can deal with it. There's nothing we can't get through, Howl. Yeah, things are going to change, but what does that matter? We needed the change," she insisted. He sighed, and nodded.

"Antoinette, if anything happens, we'll have a decision to make," he informed her, his tone serious. "Either we end it, we run, or we stay and fight. And I'll be okay with whatever you want," he said softly cupping her cheek.

"We only have two choices, Howl, either we run or we fight. There's a part of me that wants to run –"

"I know that's a pretty big part of me, too," he smiled, gently kissing her fingers. She sighed.

"But I don't want to give anyone the satisfaction of taking you away from me. All we have is each other now – don't we have the right to try to keep that?" she questioned softly. He nodded, and pressed his forehead against hers.

"We'll fight if we need to. But if we need to run, Antoinette, then be damned with the principles and the pride – we'll run. Screw them. It's _you_ that I love," he swore.

"But no matter what, we're in this together, right?" she questioned. He laughed, and nodded.

"Always, cariad," he murmured, before pressing his lips to hers. "Always."

~ * ~

"That was..."

"I'm never getting pregnant," Emilia muttered, sounding as if she were about to be sick.

"I was going to say beautiful! How can that not have moved you?" George exclaimed in surprise.

"It nearly moved me out the door! Poor Antoinette, she seemed so helpless," she sighed sadly.

"Well Howl didn't look too great either," he pointed out, glancing over to his friend, who was watching with teary eyes as the nurse cleaned his son.

"Babies are ugly," Emilia whispered quietly to her husband, who resisted the urge to snigger.

"He looks a bit like an alien. But don't tell Howl," he muttered.

"I have a son. I have a _son_!" Howl cried, running a hand through his light brown hair with shaking hands.

"What do we do now? He's in la-la land and Antoinette is still with the doctor doing I-really-don't-want-to-know-what," George questioned quietly. "And as wonderful and amazing and all that stuff this was, you're _so_ getting a caesarean," he decided firmly.

"No objections here. But that's if I get preggers at all. From the looks of things, I wouldn't say it's on my list of things to do," she muttered. "Is he going to cry forever?" she questioned with a slight frown as Polliwog (who really DID look like a polliwog) continued to wail.

"I don't know. But you have to admit, all that 'miracle of birth' stuff has a lot of merit. I think I nearly cried," George commented.

"How can you _say_ that when you saw how gooey he looked when he came out?" she exclaimed.

"Our babies won't be gooey. Our babies will be infinitely superior."

"I don't think we get to pick the level of gooeyness," she pointed out, rolling her pale eyes.

"Well ours will be better than Howl's anyway," he said, but with a little less conviction. "Although... He's pretty cute now that he's clean," he pointed out as the baby was wrapped up in a blanket.

"Would you like to hold him?" the nurse questioned Howl.

"Uh – shouldn't my wife?" he asked anxiously, glancing back to the unconscious Antoinette. "Oh, uh – okay. Yes," he stammered, holding out his arms to take his son in them. He nearly choked out a happy sob as he held the little squirming bundle. "I have a son. I have a little boy," he murmured quietly, rocking him gently in his arms.

"I want one."

"Well you can't have one. They take at least nine months to make and I'm not looking forward to the end bit," Emilia replied to her husband.

"No, I really want one. He's so... tiny," he muttered, staring jealously at the squirming thing wrapped in a blue blanket. "But I want one of the pink ones," he added quietly.

"George, I'd like you to meet your Godson," Howl introduced, turning back to the couple. George's tongue stuck in his throat at the child was passed into his arms.

"Right now. You, me, storage room, let's make one," he decided, glancing over to Emilia, who was watching with a small smile on her lips. "Hey, Polliwog. We've all been waiting to meet you for quite some time. It's good that you're finally here, but I think you've quite exhausted your mother, and your father looks a bit tired too. I guess I'll have to take you home and look after you," he sighed, gently rocking the child.

"How is she?" Emilia questioned, stepping towards Howl, who was now pushing long locks of hair from Antoinette's brow whilst George held the baby in the corner.

"Good. She's just tired, but at least she's all finished. Because it was so slow nothing t–"

"Okay, I _really_ don't want to hear what you're about to say," Emilia muttered. He laughed.

"Well, she's going to be fine. She just needs rest," he finished, fondly gazing down to the woman who had just given him a son.

"Going to do this again, do you think?"

"Have another baby? I'd love a little girl. But we won't be doing it like this again. It was cruel. She'll have a C-section," he answered with firmly. "It means a lot to both of us that you were here. I just hope you're willing to stick around in the future," he said suddenly.

"We're not leaving. We're happy in London," she assured him with a warm smile. He nodded, as if relieved. He glanced over his shoulder to see George gently cooing and bouncing the baby with an expression of complete devotion. Clearly Polliwog wouldn't be denied anything from his Godfather.

"He's been desperately in love with you for as long as I've known him. Longer, too. He's spent years torturing himself because he just... couldn't leave you," he murmured. Emilia lowered her eyes slightly.

"I know," she whispered. "I can't believe he's held out this long. He's so strong," she agreed. Howl nodded.

"I'm not going to rate how much each of us love each other, Emilia, but... what he feels for you it just..." he sighed, and turned to her with an expression of sincerity. "I only hope that one day you'll understand just how much he loves you. He's such a good person, and I –"

"I won't hurt him. Not again," she assured him gently. He gave a slightly relieved smile.

"Good. After all he's been through over the years; I think he deserves to be happy. And so do you," he replied.

"I'm in safe hands with him. He's... It's always been him, Howl. It's _always_ been George, and part of me has known that all my life, but the other part has never been able to believe it," she sighed.

"And do you believe it now?" Howl questioned with hesitation. A small smile came over Emilia's lips.

"Finally, I think I do. And I think he and I can be happy now because of it," she informed him. He grinned, glancing back to his wife. "I guess we've hit an age where this happens. Friends have babies, we're all married now, I... I feel like I'm over the hill or something," she laughed as she saw the expression of complete devotion and adoration in Howl's face as he gazed upon his sleeping wife.

"At least you're still on the right side of the earth. That's the important thing," Howl chuckled, before turning back to George, who was now discussing the conflicts in the Middle East with Polliwog. "Bugger off, George, he's going to be a musician," he laughed, taking his baby from the reluctant George, who then moved to stand by Emilia's side.

"She did well."

"Yeah. She did," Emilia agreed softly, before releasing a long sigh, and wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest.

"I'm not saying today, or even tomorrow. But one day in the near future," he said, stroking back her blonde curls.

"It'd be nice. But I want a chance to be Emilia Knightley before I have to be 'Mum'," she replied.

"Of course. But I do want to beat William to it," he informed her.

"We should probably let them know we're married before we start having kids," she pointed out with a small laugh. He kissed her shoulder.

"I doubt they'll be surprised. After all, even _William_ guessed it, and you know how oblivious he is when Eli's not concerned," he chuckled. "What were you talking to Howl about?" he asked curiously.

"Not much. You, mostly," she shrugged.

"Oh really? About how dashing and sexy I am, and how much you love me?"

"Nup. Sorry, babe," she laughed. He tisked in disapproval. "He's worried I might hurt you. He's very protective," she informed him. He held her a little tighter. "And I told him he doesn't have anything to worry about. I can look after you now," she added.

"Good. I think..." he sighed. "I'll be honest. It's been so hard over the past few years that I... I think I might need looking after," he murmured quietly. Emilia turned her head to press a soft kiss against his mouth.

"I know. And I'm prepared for that, as long as you're prepared to look after me too," she replied softly. He smiled against her lips.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

It was a few hours before Antoinette was able to be stirred long enough to greet her son, and by that time Eli and William had arrived, disappointed to have missed out on the big event, but relieved to know things went well. Eli squealed in excitement to hold Polliwog, and even William welled up at the sight.

"He's so pretty," Eli sighed, passing the baby back to the weak, but conscious Antoinette.

"He's beautiful," she agreed, gently kissing his forehead as he slept in her arms.

"Have you guys picked a name yet?" Emilia questioned.

"It can't be Julian or Kai, because we've already called dibs on them," Eli insisted instantly.

"That's alright, we've called Dominic and Atticus," George replied simply. Suddenly all eyes turned to him. "You two were probably discussing baby names when you were still holding hands in school, we've known each other all our lives, _we_ have more justification," he rationalised, glancing to Emilia, who was suddenly _very_ interested in Polliwog, and nothing else in the room to save herself questioning.

"Are you -"

"If you're trying to say in a relationship, then the answer would be yes. If you're trying ask if we eloped in Paris last week, then the answer would also be yes," he replied calmly. William started to snigger, Eli blinked in complete and total shock, and Antoinette gave a small smile, as if she knew it was coming.

"Fuck."

"Not in front of the baby, but if you need proof we could do a private show. Or you could check out the rings," he replied teasingly. "And I can show you my tattoo – but hers is on her hip and she's wearing too many layers of clothing," he commented, pulling the sleaves of his jacket up to reveal the ornate script reading '_Emilia_' over his left wrist.

"This wasn't how we were going to tell them," Emilia reminded her husband with a sigh.

"I saw an opportunity. And they had to know, love," he shrugged. She laughed and sighed at the same time, nodding her head.

"Alright, I won't kill you. But I want to find out Polliwog's name before I fall asleep. Oh, and I don't intend on sleeping on a hospital floor," she declared, instantly diverting the amazed stares.

"Oh, yes," Howl muttered suddenly. "We decided that because he's going to be a 'Llewellyn' it would only be fair that he has a French first name," he rationalised, gazing lovingly down at his son. "So... if you all agree, we'd like to call him Alexandre. 'Alexandre George Llewellyn'," he announced with a small smile.

"Alex... that's perfect," Eli sighed, gently stroking the tiny tuft of light brown hair from her little brother's face.

"You're going to make me cry," George informed his friend with little delicacy. Howl laughed apologetically.

"I'm sorry, but the way I see it is that you've saved our relationship so many times you're a part of Alex yourself. I only hope he grows up to be as good a man as his Godfather," he shrugged simply.

"Alright, now I'm _really_ going to cry," George muttered, pressing his face against the side of Emilia's blonde curls. The others laughed, but Emilia was quite certain that he really _was_ crying. And it was a beautiful thing for Howl and Toni to have done for him. They would probably never know how much it meant.

"It's okay, babe. We'll get a puppy and call him 'Howl'," she assured her husband comfortingly, causing those around to snigger.

"Not that I want to be pushy or anything, but the nurse has to show me how to feed this thing, and I'm dead tired," Antoinette muttered with a sigh, leaning back in the bed with Alex held tightly in her arms.

"Of course. Do you want us to stick around?" George questioned, removing his face from his wife's hair.

"It's really late, actually, so you should all probably just go home and try to get some sleep. But please come around in the morning so you can get properly acquainted with Alex," Howl replied, smoothing back his son's tuft of hair.

"Are you staying here?" William asked curiously, to which he nodded.

"Can't leave my wife and son now can I?" he answered with a laugh, before it turned to a happy sigh.

"I guess we should go then," Eli muttered, pressing a final kiss to Alex's forehead. "We'll be here tomorrow morning. Try to get some rest," she said to Antoinette, before giving her goodbyes and leaving the room with William, a slight frown on her face.

"Just a second love," Howl muttered to his wife, who nodded sleepily. He practically dashed out of the room and into the hall. "William, can I have a word with my daughter for a moment?" he questioned, stopping the couple. Eli turned to her adopted father with a small look of confusion. "You know, today has been pretty incredible," he informed her. Eli lowered her dark eyes.

"Of course it would be. You get a son. I mean, it'd have to be pretty cool," she shrugged, trying to sound unaffected.

"And the only time I can remember feeling this incredible involved a lot less pain, but equal joy," he declared, placing a hand on her shoulder. "And it was when I signed my name on a piece of paper that gave me a daughter. A daughter that I love equally to my son, regardless of biology. And I know that I have to share you with young William now, and you have to share me with Alexandre, but you're always going to be my daughter. I'm not going to forget that, and I hope that Alex grows up with the best big sister he could have watching over him," he finished softly.

Eli instantly wrapped her arms around Howl as tightly as she could and buried her head into his chest, tears slipping from her dark eyes.

"Are you sure? I – I mean, he's pretty cute," she sniffled.

"I'm certain. And you're cute too, just ask William," he laughed, stroking back her dark hair. "Don't ever feel unwanted, Eli. Not when you have a family that loves you so much," he added quietly, pressing a kiss to her forehead, before releasing her.

"I love you too, Nada," she assured him, giving another sniffle. Howl chuckled.

"You had best get back to that boy of yours. I'll see you in the morning," he smiled, to which she nodded, before disappearing down the hall in search of William.

"It's a bit of a turning point from now on," George commented from behind him. Howl turned with a curious expression.

"What do you mean?"

"We're all some sort of collection of people from broken families or lives that just haven't worked out. Antoinette's parents certainly weren't fit for the job and neither were Eli's, Darcy lost his and the half that Emi has left is oblivious to everything around him, I never really seemed to have any and you were pushed away from yours because of something you didn't have control over," he rationalised. "But... now we all have families. I guess we kind of make up one big one. From now on we can't blame our problems on never fitting," he explained.

"I don't think we're going to have many more problems, George. Not now. I think things are going to work out for all of us," Howl sighed, glancing back into the ward where his wife, son and Emilia sat.

"Nearly eight years of waiting," George murmured.

"Nearly seven of wishing," Howl threw back, glancing to his own wife.

"You happy?"

"Ridiculously so."

"Hmm. Me too," George smiled, before they both stepped back into the room to greet their wives.

**A/N: Wow, only one chapter left! This was a big one, folks, and I hope you're enjoying some of the alleviation from the angst. I'm in a good mood, Daddy is coming back from his trip tomorrow and my Grandfather is only a week away from being discharged from the hospital! Yaaaaaaaaaay! Alright, one more chapter (the epilogue) and it's all over! Ahhh! And then shall come my break from fanfiction - I'm not sure how long it will be, but I should be back around October, if things go well. I might post one of my older stories that I completed a while ago or some one-shots, but I won't be terribly involved. I have too much school work to focus on!**


	34. Of Epilogues and Endings

"_And if all the world was perfect,  
I would only ever want to see your scars  
You know they can have their universe,  
We'll be in the dirt designing stars,"  
-_Darren Hayes, 'So Beautiful'

"Mine can do tricks."

"Mine's pretty."

"Mine's pretty too!"

"I'm sorry, do you _really_ think that _your_ offspring, with a head that makes up half his body weight and chocolate constantly smeared over his face, is prettier than _my_ gorgeous little angel?" George questioned, as if aghast, holding up his baby and picking up one tiny little hand to wave cutely in the air.

"Hey, you have one, Howl has one and a half, but I don't have any, so you've both beaten me in this competition, isn't that enough?" William exclaimed.

"You're so pretty. Why are you so pretty? Oh yeah, because you had the best of the gene pool," George informed his child lovingly.

"Mine's pretty," Howl muttered petulantly, picking up his son, who was having a great deal of fun running three metres before falling on his backside. "You're pretty, Alex, aren't you? Do something cute," he commanded. Alex giggled. "_See_? Can yours laugh? I don't think so," he declared proudly.

"Mine doesn't need to. When you're this pretty, all you have to do is just sit there and look pretty," George replied factually.

"Well mine can talk, too. Alex, say something."

"Baaaaaaaaaaaa!"

"Either your son is that guy Stephen Fry played in Blackadder, or he thinks he's a sheep. Congratulations. I would have expected nothing more from a Welshman."

"My son is not a sheep!"

"He's half Welsh! How can he be anything _but_?"

"Quick, Alex, bite him."

"Oh great, now you've taught your sheep to bite people. Keep your infant away from mine, it might give my precious little darling fleas," George commanded, stepping away from his friend.

"He's your Godson, in case you've forgotten," Howl pointed out.

"I _know!_ I love him all the same. But you have to agree, mine _is_ very pretty," he sighed happily, as his daughter gave a gurgle of approval.

"I feel left out," William muttered miserably.

"You can have one just as soon as they write a musical featuring a pregnant Australian soprano," Howl comforted his son-in-law, who rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Only it won't be as pretty as mine."

"Are you two _still_ competing?" came an exasperated sigh as the wives stepped back into the room, Antoinette with a hand held gently over the six-month belly of her daughter.

"Howl seems to think that his unfortunate infant is prettier than our darling, gorgeous, precious, angelic little Sienna," George informed his wife, who rolled her pale eyes.

"For the past two months I've not heard you say a sentence that didn't include the word 'pretty' and 'Sienna'," she muttered.

"You know what else, Howl? My wife is prettier than yours. _And_ she can do tricks. Sorry, Antoinette," George called over to the sniggering female.

"No offence taken. But I can do tricks too," she retorted, wrapping her arms around her husband from behind.

"That she can. How do you think my '_unfortunate infant_', not to _mention_ Tadpole, came into existence?" he questioned with a raised brow.

"Ew. Please don't make me think Alex arrived any manner other than delivery from the stork," Eli questioned with a shudder, taking her place by her husband of just under two years. "And stop calling her Tadpole. She's going to be Princess-Sparkle-Muffins," she added firmly.

"I have the prettiest wife, the prettiest baby, and I'm infinitely prettier than the both of you, how do you even wake up in the morning?" George questioned William and Howl incredulously as he gently rocked his infant.

"Can you _please_ take your husband home? He's starting to annoy me," Howl requested Emilia, who laughed.

"I was about to suggest that," she assured him.

"I want one. It's not fair, they're always competing and I haven't got one," William muttered miserably.

"Plenty of time for that in the future," Howl assured him.

"Alright then, I guess I'd better go home with my gorgeous, sexy wife, and precious little angel. Have fun being wiped out by natural selection here, gentleman, ladies, domesticated livestock," George declared finally, nodding each individual respectively.

"Bye-bye George!"

"Bye-bye, unfortunate infant. Despite the fact that you're not as pretty as your cousin, I still love you," George assured Alex, picking up Sienna's baby-bag and swinging it over his shoulder.

"Sorry about my husband. I'm hoping his ego will deflate sometime soon," Emilia apologised, before bidding her friends goodbye, and following her husband out of the Llewellyn house.

Over the past two years many things had changed. George and Emilia had an official marriage ceremony in the spring after Alex's birth, and moved into a gorgeous London townhouse. Not long after Emilia's father, Henry Woodhouse passed away, his last words apparently concerning the theft of several chickens in the area. It was of course a difficult time for Emilia, but she was at least able to come to terms with his loss, and not ignore it, like she had her mother's death.

_George_ took off well, several new boutiques opening around the world and stock appearing in high-class department stores, still maintaining its eco-friendly methods of manufacture, and it was a constant feature at Paris Fashion weeks.

George's company also took off with impressive speed; however, he hired a CEO to take over the hard work whilst he played a relatively minor roll in all that happened so he could spend more time with his wife and child.

The Pemberley School of Arts remained a summer holiday program, as it fit in comfortably with the schedules of both William and Eli, who moved in with Howl and Antoinette after the returned from Australia for their honeymoon. Eli got the position of second soprano at the theatre, and was moving to lead now that Heidi was announcing her retirement. It was her last season in second place before she took over the limelight.

William finally decided to combine his love of music with his dedication to the business world that his father had started in him, and made an independent record company, that was small, but going well, and he was happy to finally be involved in music once more. His and Eli's marriage was going better than could ever have been hoped, their love only increased with every day they spent closer together, and all arguments were solved with simple conversation. They were finally not suffering from problems of miscommunication and could love each other freely.

Antoinette didn't return to her former company, which was still headed by the 'Vermin' Vincent Lothian. Instead she was working freelance from home to look after Alex whilst Howl was teaching during the day. It was his last year in Rosings Park before he moved onto University lecturing in Musical Theory. Their second child, a girl, was expected sometime around March, and she was already very loved by her parents, brother and sister in both law and blood, and her 'Aunt' and 'Uncle' George and Emilia.

"We should have another one. I want to see if we can create something equally as cute," George suggested when they arrived home.

"You can be in charge of the birth then," she laughed.

"Aw, Mummy doesn't want to push a human being out of her again! She's so mean. But you must be so bereft without a little sister!" he exclaimed, bouncing his daughter up and down in his arms. She gurgled happily in response.

"I thought you wanted a boy next," she frowned slightly.

"Well, I want a boy and another girl. Either order. And then we'll marry the youngest girl off to Will and Eli's eldest boy, whenever they can get around to procreating, and together, they will breed a super-child," he declared. "Actually, no. You're al_ready_ a super-child, aren't you, my pretty little darling?" he cooed to the infant, who reached out to grab her father's nose. "That means yes. She's agreeing," he informed Emilia eagerly.

"She's hungry. I'm going to feed her and put her down for a nap, can you take care of dinner?"

"Can't I just sit and watch her sleep?" he questioned petulantly. Emilia rolled her eyes and took her daughter from her husband with a small laugh.

"She's going to be _so_ spoilt. She'll think the world revolved around her," she muttered.

"It does. And she won't be spoilt. I used to act the same way when you were a baby, but by the time you were old enough to understand I stopped," he informed her as they went into the kitchen, and he pulled open the fridge to find something to cook for dinner. Their reliance on take-away food was deemed unhealthy during Emilia's pregnancy (who had an awful time of it, like Antoinette), so they had both learnt to cook, at least a little.

"Why is that?"

"Well, you just weren't cute anymore," he sighed, before laughing at her aghast response. "I was worried you'd be selfish, so I stopped. But it was the same as it is now, I couldn't deny you, or Sienna anything. You're both so pretty," he sighed happily.

"Well just as long as she's not selfish, but not insecure," she warned.

"Of course. But my little baby girl is perfect. She doesn't need to be told that," he declared. "Oh, and Sienna too," he added with a grin. Emilia rolled her eyes, and sat down on one of the kitchen chairs around the bench to feed Sienna. "Oh, Mum called. She'll be in London for Christmas and wants to shower the bub with gifts – do we need anything?" he questioned.

"Nup. She's bought every single stuffed toy in the country and we're right for clothes," she assured him.

"Well she wants to go shopping with you, all the same."

"I suppose I could use some more clothes for myself–"

"Ha!"

"- but the baggy look is in now so most of my maternity wear is fine," she finished, sending him a disapproving glare.

"It's ridiculous, you're swamped in it now, and no one can tell you have a figure," he objected, chopping up a few vegetables to make a stir-fry.

"I still have one kilo to lose before I'm back to pre-pregnancy. Until I lose it, baggy clothes stay," she said sternly.

"First of all, you only _gained_ a few kilos when you were pregnant, and you needed to gain five more anyway before that. Most of it in height."

"I love you too, babe," she laughed, reaching forwards to snatch a piece of carrot from the chopping board.

"Well don't throw your maternity stuff out, you can give it all to Marianne," he rationalised.

"Chris bought her everything even slightly related to pregnancy he could find on this side of the planet the moment she told him. I think she's set," she laughed. "Besides. Antoinette has already taken most of it," she rationalised.

"Well considering how pleased Bobby Martin looks these days, Haley might need them pretty soon," he commented, tossing the veggies into a wok.

"Ew. Don't need to think about that," she shuddered. "And I already bet with Eli that Nellie would be knocked up again before Haley is," she added.

"Didn't she only have Emrys a month ago?"

"A year. She had him a _year_ ago. You were at the Christening! You gave Edward a hug and tried to give Emrys a rating out of ten!"

"Hmm. That sounds like me," he muttered with a chuckle. "Actually, I think I enjoyed Nellie and Edward's wedding _much_ more than Emrys' Christening. Everyone was drunk at the wedding," he added optimistically.

"Well I don't think I'm going to let you hang around with any of our friends who have babies – not when you keep insisting Sienna is so much prettier than all of them," she decided.

"But she _is_! I don't care what everyone says about Hamish, he's not _nearly_ as cute as Sienna," he insisted.

"Hamish Weston is a _very_ cute young boy. And you can't keep trying to compete with other parents. They'll stop talking to us," she scolded, attempting not to laugh.

"Hamish has hit that age where he's not old enough to be a toddler, but too old to be a baby. He's in the ugly age," he insisted.

"He's eighteen months. That's not an 'ugly age'," she objected.

"Whatever. All I know is that Sienna will have slim pickings when she's looking for a suitor around here. Everyone else's children just don't make the cut," he declared.

"You're terrible. I'm not talking to you anymore," Emilia laughed, turning back to her daughter with loving eyes. "But just between you and me, you _are_ a lot cuter than Hamish, Emrys and Alex put together," she said quietly.

"Ha! I _knew_ it! You can tell she's gorgeous too!" George cried triumphantly.

"Hurry up and finish dinner. You're corrupting me," she ordered with playfully sparkling eyes. George laughed, and turned back to their cooking meal with a small smile.

"I love you, Em," he informed her suddenly. She smiled.

"I love you too, George."

"Go on, admit it. Sienna's the prettiest baby that ever lived. Well, you were pretty cute too."

"I refuse to encourage you," she said firmly, but her eyes gave a clear indication that she agreed with him. He gave a confident grin.

"And the next one will be just as pretty."

"No next one."

"Yes! A hundred more!"

"I call dibs on sitting in the waiting room handing out cigars during the birth then."

"I was with you the whole time, and there were no cigars involved."

"Lies."

"Quiet woman, you're distracting me," he laughed, turning the wok off and filling two plates with its contents. He passed his wife a fork and her plate as if it were a tradition they were now used to.

For the happy couple, things had settled into a very pleasing domestic routine. They split the cooking duties and hired a maid so there wouldn't be any cleaning, George only went to the office a few days a week, and on those days Emilia worked from home. They juggled the duties of parenting, swapping working from home and working at the office so someone was always with the baby. They had a surprising amount of time to spend with each other, despite Sienna's need for constant care, so there was no longer any sort of 'gap' between them. They felt like the happiest family on earth.

Half an hour later, as Emilia was laying Sienna down for her nap, she felt the presence of her husband behind her and his warm arms wrap around her waist.

"She's so beautiful," he muttered quietly, resting his chin atop her head and staring at his daughter as if she were the most interesting thing on the face of the planet.

"Yeah. She is."

"You know, ten years ago this is exactly the kind of thing I wanted?" he said suddenly. Emilia laughed.

"You wanted to wake up at three AM every night to feed and change a screaming baby?" she questioned teasingly.

"I looked at you and thought, 'wouldn't it be nice if we ended up together. Like a family'. I didn't think it would be ten years in the making, but those ten years got us here," he sighed happily, running his arm slowly up and down his wife's arm.

"And where do you see us in ten more years?"

"We'll have ten more children, that's all."

"You're _crazy_."

"And you're _pretty_," he retorted in the manner that he always finished their arguments. She laughed against his lips.

"Well, so are you," she admitted finally.

"Want to go make another pretty offspring?"

"Shut up," she laughed, leaning forwards to capture her husband's lips in a kiss.

"Ah, shouldn't we relocate? Don't want to scar the little one," he pointed out, breaking their kiss for a moment to glance down to his daughter.

"Good point. Night, darling," she cooed, leaning over the cradle and giving her daughter a soft kiss.

"See you in the morning. Or most likely three AM," George added, smoothing back his little girl's hair, before smiling, taking his wife's hand in his, and leaving their sleeping daughter's room in silence.

It _had_ been ten years in the making, but those ten years of pain, suffering, love and longing had created the most perfect family one could ever find. There was a great deal of moral to their lives and their stories, but no moral can ever _truly_ encapsulate love. It was something intangible, uncontainable, and in the case of George and Emilia, all they needed.

The end.

**A/N: Upon my word. Wow. It's finally over... I always feel a mixture of things when I'm finishing long fics, and this being my forth, I would have thought I'd get used to it – but clearly I'm not. Or maybe it's just because of the impending break from fanfiction? **

**So, if there were any of you hoping that it might just be a joke, I'm sorry. I've met some really awesome people on here who are incredibly talented and you should really read their stuff. I've had a blast here for the past year or two, and hopefully I'll be coming back in October, but you never know. I may decide to enter the real world, and write books with my own characters... hmm, sounds scary. Anyway, this next year coming up really terrifies me, but hopefully I'll be able to survive it. If you want to keep updated with how I'm handling things you could always check out my blog http: www . lejardindeve . blogspot . com / or just email or PM me. I may post some one shots or even a few of my older fics, but I don't really know right now. For the sake of my schoolwork, it'd be best if I didn't. **

**Anyway, I guess this is it. So, until October! I hope you enjoyed this story and my others, and I hope you find many other enjoyable fics to read! **

**xoxo evie xoxo**


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